


Bound

by lilyseyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eaters, Dementors (Harry Potter) - Freeform, Forced Bonding, M/M, Mpreg, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:45:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 89,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyseyes/pseuds/lilyseyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry is captured by Voldemort and Severus exposed as a spy, Voldemort plans to bind both to him as slaves. Severus and Harry agree to bind themselves to prevent that from happening.</p><p>Written in 2005/2006</p><p>Beta'd by irisgirl2000</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Captured

The last Hogsmeade weekend of the school year dawned sunny and warm. Most of the older students left the castle in high spirits waking down towards the gates to the school. The fifth and seventh years were in the middle of the OWLs and NEWTs, and most were revising frantically, so the sixth years had been charged with watching out for the younger students, who had run on ahead.

Harry led the way with a tense smile plastered on his face. He was very apprehensive about this sojourn into the wizarding village; a bad feeling had nagged at him all week, growing stronger as the day approached. He had tried to tell everyone, from the Headmaster to Hermione, but no one had taken him seriously. He had been dismissed, told that he was just jumpy after the Order of the Phoenix had thwarted an attack by Voldemort the previous weekend after one of his visions. Glancing behind him, he saw that everyone had paired up with their significant other, Ron and Hermione, followed by Neville and Luna, followed by Seamus and Justin Finch-Fletchley, and the most surprising pairing, Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy.

The main street was empty when the students arrived, fanning out to visit different shops. Harry scanned the area cautiously, wondering where the villagers were on this fine Saturday morning. The group split up, and he headed alone towards Honeydukes. Harry was two steps from the door when he heard the telltale crack of Apparation. Wand in hand, Harry spun back towards the street just as Professor Severus Snape ran from the far side of the building, long black robes billowing.

“Potter! It’s an ambush, gather the students and get back to the castle!”

Harry dug a gold galleon out of his pocket and tapped it with his wand, three times. Members of the DA poured into the street just as Snape skidded to a stop beside him.

“Get everyone back to Hogwarts, now!! It’s an ambush!” Harry shouted urgently.

The sound of multiple Apparations could be heard from behind them as students were gathered, and urged to run in the opposite direction. Some of the DA pushed the large group of younger students in a run towards the castle, while others flanked Harry and the Potions Master. As Harry turned to face the approaching enemy, his scar seared with white-hot pain, agony shooting through his head. Occluding his mind as the tall, stoic man at his side had taught him, he was able to block some of the debilitating pain.

“He’s here,” Harry hissed, “Voldemort is here.”

“Bloody hell!” Severus Snape ground out, knowing the implication of that for his continuing role as a spy. He turned to watch their attackers approach.

A ring of Death Eaters surrounded the tall, skeletal, black-clad figure. The group walked slowly towards them, casting hexes and curses at the retreating children. Members of the DA responded to them, allowing the younger children to escape. Without thinking, Harry erected a shield behind them to cover the retreat with his left hand, as he threw blasting curses with his right. Snape stood shoulder to shoulder with him, stunning the closest of the Death Eaters, as he also shielded the running children.

“We meet again, Harry Potter,” the reptilian voice hissed. Scarlet eyes gleamed in triumph.

Harry didn’t bother answering, defending himself against the advancing Death Eaters, standing his ground and stopping their progress just meters from them.

“Severussss, you profoundly disappoint me.”

The Potions Master blocked a jet of purple spell light with his own shield. Harry’s eyes continued to water, the pain in his head intense. With a wave of his hand, he motioned Ron, Draco, and Hermione behind his shield with the remaining members of the DA. They moved quickly, reinforcing the shielding as the last of the students escaped the village.

“Not very bright are you, Tom, showing up this close to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore.”

“Flussshing out traitorsss callsss for drastic actions.”

The right flank of Death Eaters began to rush them, and as Harry stood fighting, he did not see the flick of Voldemort’s wand. A wave of dark magic rocked him as the town disappeared. He was dropped to the cold dirt floor of a stone cell, the prone figure of Severus Snape draped over his leg. More black-robed figures descended on them and Harry found himself pummeled with hexes and beaten with something heavy. The world went black. 

Shivering with cold and shock, Severus Snape regained consciousness to find himself cradled in the arms of Harry Potter. Wild hair matted with blood, face pale and bruised, and shaking as badly as the Potions Master, he was holding Severus tightly. An angel to guide him through his last painful hours, Severus mused, leaning into the little warmth generated by the thin teen. When the boy opened his mouth, Severus laid a shaky finger across it, and then pushed himself into a sitting position against the wall. Looping an arm around the boy, he pulled Harry against him. A muffed gasp of pain told the older wizard that he wasn’t the only one in pain. 

Pressing his lips against the teen’s ear, he hissed at him that the cell was magically monitored and they probably would have company soon. A slight nod indicated that Harry understood, and Severus felt proud of the young man. They had trained intensely since the beginning of this school year, the death of his godfather and learning of the Prophecy having profoundly changed the young Gryffindor. Gone was the devilish grin and mischievous manner that Harry had displayed since his first year, replaced by an unnaturally serious and quiet sixteen–year-old, who had devoted himself to his studies and spent every spare moment in secret defense and Occlumency training. Now that he had superb control of his raw magic, Harry Potter was an extremely powerful wizard, with exceptional wandless abilities, which the Potion Master and the Headmaster had kept a well-guarded secret.

Harry watched as his teacher struggled with each breath, his normally sallow face deathly pale. Mentally chanting a healing spell, Harry ran his hands over the man’s chest and abdomen, and then back up to his head. He was thankful to hear an immediate ease in the Potions Master’s breathing, and he repeated the motion over his companion’s arms and legs. Scooting back, Harry was surprised when an arm snaked out to pull him back against the warmth of Snape’s side. With a soft sigh, he leaned into the comfort being offered. Severus Snape was an excellent tutor and a harsh taskmaster, who never praised his most hated student; yet, Harry had found over the past year that he had come to trust Snape implicitly, and was happiest in the older man’s company. Training hard, mastering the tasks he was being taught, and even managing to do well at potions, even though nothing he did seemed to truly please the man, he still took comfort lack of snarky comments while being in his presence. 

His head continued to pound, and his scar burned painfully, but there was nothing that Harry could do. It seemed that the healing spells he had worked so hard to learn could not be cast on oneself. Checking once again, Harry made sure that the shields were up in his mind, then he allowed his head to rest back against Snape’s shoulder. Despite the pain he was in, Harry tried to examine the small stone cell they were in the best he could, attempting to find a way out through the wards he felt pressing against him. 

The heavy wooden door of the cell flew open and slammed against the wall, causing both occupants to jump to their feet, only to be immediately overwhelmed by crowd of black-robed Death Eaters. Arms twisted up behind their backs, they were marched to a richly appointed chamber, with thick warm rugs cushioning the floors, and thick brocade curtains covering the windows. The room, like the hallways the two men had been led through, had a musty, unused smell. A large throne-like chair stood in front of a roaring fireplace, and was occupied by a black-clad, skeletally thin figure. Although most of the face was in shadow, scarlet eyes could be seen blazing from the depths.

Harry’s head seared with white-hot pain, and his knees buckled as he struggled to reinforce his mental walls, to seal off the pain. Both wizards were forced to their knees in front of Voldemort, who watched them with snake-like eyes, his gaze almost hungry. Harry drew support from the tall, silent man beside him, and was able to mitigate the pain to a fierce ache.

“I am mossst disssappointed in you, Ssseverusss, betrayed by one I had loved ssso much. I have debated long and hard to conceive of a punissshment that would bring you an adequate level of pain.”

A long, white, skeletal finger reached out to stroke an alabaster cheek, and Severus had to force himself not to flinch away. He knew that his former master was watching for any sign of weakness, just as he knew the torture planned would be excruciating. Having made his peace with the prospect of death two years before when he was summoned back to service by a newly resurrected Voldemort, Severus felt a calm descend on him. It was unfortunate that Harry Potter had also been taken, but Severus reflected on the boy’s seeming ability to defeat Tom Riddle at every turn, and fervently hoped that luck would hold. 

“Yesss, it only ssseemsss right that a traitor sssuffer many timesss the pain I could inflict on your fragile body, Ssseveruss, therefore I have decided to cassst the Enssslavement Bond on you and Potter, then I will enssslave him to me!” 

The cold, high-pitched laugh sent chills running the length of his spine and the Potions Master felt his stomach roll. An enslavement bond was one that bound two souls together as one, allowing the master to tap into the magical powers of the slave, and the slave to feel every emotion and pain of the master. It was a bastardization of the soul-binding spell used by life partners to bind them together in every possible way. The Dark Lord, by making Potter his master, and then enslaving the boy himself, would have at his disposal both their combined magical powers, which could well make him undefeatable, given the level of the teen’s magical power.

“Yesss, but first, a bit of sport. _Crucio!_ ”

The torture seemed to last for hours, and the pair once again regained consciousness in the cold, dank cell. Pulling the awakening teen into his arms, Severus found that Harry was trembling violently, thanks to prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. He also knew that they did not have much time before the evil bastard came for them again.

“Harry!” he hissed urgently in the boy’s ear.

“Professor, are you alright?”

“No, I’m not alright,” he whispered in a pale imitation of his usual irate roar, “but you must listen to me! The Enslavement Bond only works if you are unwilling. If you are willing, it reverts back to a soul-mate bond instead. Do you understand, Potter? He won’t be able to enslave us if we willing bond to each other instead, he won’t be able to use our magic.”

The brilliant emerald eyes stared at him out of the deathly pale face, the trembling hands working automatically to cast a healing spell, and Severus was hard pressed not to shake the boy.

“Do you trust me, Harry?” 

“Yes, Professor, I trust you,” came the whispered response.

“Are you willing to bond with me, Harry?” 

“Yes, sir.”

The door slammed open again, and the two captives found themselves dragged once more to the ornate sitting room, where Lord Voldemort sat on his throne-like chair. Without so much as a word, the two were made to kneel facing each other, their left hands held palm out; a short Death Eater with a silver hand sliced into both palms and tied them together, so the blood intermingled. Harry could feel himself tremble, but found reassurance in the onyx eyes facing him, even as the Dark Lord began an incantation in Latin. A tingling sensation started on his skin, and Harry was surprised to find an aura of gold surrounding him, and a silver aura glowing around Snape. Where their blood mixed, the aura turned pure white, and Voldemort cackled at the sight.

“Now, we complete the bond,” Voldemort declared, before folding himself back into the throne-like chair. “Wormtail!”

Harry watched with trepidation as their hands were freed. He darted a glance at the Potions Master, surprised to see resignation and sorrow in the obsidian eyes. A hand grabbed Harry’s chin and yanked his head back, pouring a vial of bitter-tasting potion down his throat. A hand clamped across his face until he was forced to choked it down in order to breathe. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Professor Snape had been backhanded and pushed on to his hands and knees.

A wand cast a spell over him; his head spinning, Harry dropped to all fours, the high, cold laughter heard as if from a distance. His head felt full of cotton, and an unfamiliar urge filled him, frightening him with its intensity. An erection sprung up between his legs, hot and throbbing, and Harry, a novice at any kind of sex act that didn’t involve his own hand, felt tears of mortification welling in his eyes. Just as suddenly as the arousal had struck, a new feeling of calm reverberated through him, easing the anguish. A soft, reassuring voice in the back of his mind explained that this was part of what had to be done to complete the bond, soothing him as he bit back a sob. 

The horror of a circle of jeering black-robed witnesses faded, and Harry moved to frantically grab the hips in front of him. His vision narrowed so that Harry could only see Severus Snape in front of him; the voice urged him on, and he eased his way into the tight passage as he was directed, praying that he wasn’t causing pain. Something was driving him to move, and Harry did, moving in and out as he felt a coiling in his belly that he recognized. With a feeling of humiliation, Harry climaxed, instantly feeling a rush of awareness flow through him. The voice in his head was loud and easily recognized as Snape’s.

_‘All right, Harry, move! Just follow what I do!’_

Pulling forward, Severus shot to his feet, scattering the startled Death Eaters. Stopping only to grab Harry’s arm, he threw up a hand, and the feeling of raw power that flowed through him was astonishing.

“ _Accio Snape and Potter wands!_ ”

The two wands leapt from Wormtail’s pocket into his hand, and Severus snatched them both. He fired a blasting curse, and then whipped around to fire off a stunning spell; as soon as all the immediate threats were neutralized, he wrapped his arms around the teenager. Drawing on their combined magical abilities, he Apparated them through the ward to the gates of Hogwarts, where he scooped the unresponsive Gryffindor into his arms. 

At a half run, barefoot and half naked, the Potions Master made his way to the hospital wing. Shouting for the medi-witch, he collapsed on a bed, his arms still cradling the pale sixteen-year-old boy whose haunted green eyes were fixed on his face. Although he had been the recipient of the final act in the bonding ritual, Severus felt as if he had raped the boy. Severus knew he preferred men to women, but Harry had been given no choice, and was now bound to him for life. Poppy ran to him from her room behind her office, eyes flaring at the tattered and bloody sight of them both. Without question, she went to work on the teenager’s many injuries, stymied only by Harry’s death grip on the older wizard.

Albus Dumbledore appeared at his elbow, looking weary and haggard. In clear, precise terms, Severus relayed to the powerful wizard what had transpired during the twelve hours of their captivity. Unflinchingly, he revealed everything, the torture, the forced bond, and the way the two had circumvented the enslavement; he included the consummation as well. Describing the immense magical power that he had felt once the bond was complete, the Potions Master did not admit that the sheer force of the magic was frightening in its intensity. Severus chose not to tell the Headmaster the fact that he had already sealed off the bond, ruthlessly squelching it from him side. The boy didn’t need a constant reminder of the damnation Severus had brought to them both, courtesy of the snake-faced bastard he had chosen to serve before the boy was born. The elderly wizard had merely listened and nodded his head.

“I will leave it to you to explain to Harry the ramifications of the soul-binding, and what he needs to know in order to deal with it. I would not be surprised to find this liaison leaked to the Daily Prophet, as it would bring suspicion to bear on you once again. It will also, I am certain, portray Harry in a bad light.”

Severus had already come to the same conclusion, and was well aware of the resulting difficulties this would bring to the Boy-Who-Lived. Poppy pronounced that Harry would survive, healed the last of his injuries, and poured a vial of Dreamless Sleep down his throat. As the potion went to work, and Harry succumbed to sleep, the Potions Master was finally able to pull away. Pressing a kiss to the wild mop of hair, he made his escape when the nurse left to retrieve a hospital gown for the boy. He encountered no one on his journey through the shadows to his rooms in the dungeons, slipping in through the heavily warded door as the castle slept. Showering and assessing his own injuries, he took several potions to aid in healing, and then downed a vial of Dreamless Sleep himself.

It was still dark outside when Harry opened his eyes. Feeling disoriented, he wasn’t sure how long he had slept. As the confusion waned, Harry was hit broadside by wave after wave of memory and emotion, as the scenes from being held captive in Voldemort’s lair played at high speed through his mind. Feelings of horror, humiliation, and self-disgust at his actions were supplanted by an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. Sitting up, he buried his head in his hands. The knowledge that he had raped the person who had come to mean so much to him weighed heavily on his heart. In his secret heart of hearts, Harry had harbored a feeling of attraction, and the deep desire that Severus Snape might some day come to see him as something other than a means to an end, a nuisance, and possibly something more than just James Potter’s son. 

As he silently got to his feet and located the change of clothing that had been left for him, Harry reflected on the Prophecy that had overshadowed his life since the end of his fifth year. He was not a stupid child who could be consoled with vague interpretations of the words he now knew by heart, it had taken many hours of deep thought that summer as he mourned the death of his godfather, but he now knew, and accepted, that he was to die in order to kill Voldemort. Dressing slowly, his body screaming at the movement, his muscles taut and sore, he slipped out of the hospital wing and crept down towards the main Entrance Hall. The Great Hall was full, and Harry could see that he had slept clear through to dinner Sunday night.

Feeling as if he would choke on anything he put in his mouth, Harry continued silently across the entry and up the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower. Retrieving his invisibility cloak from his trunk, he made his way to the solitude of the Astronomy Tower. The chill in the Scottish air went unnoticed as Harry slumped down beside a parapet, his cloak concealing him from most eyes, and cried. Deep sobs that seemed to start from his toes shook his body, and he did nothing to stop them. He was a coward as well as a rapist, and an inadvertent murderer, with the blood of many people, most of them those who had loved him best, on his hands.

A pale sliver of dawn was lighting the eastern horizon before he was able to rouse himself enough to silently make his way back to the Tower. Showering and dressing, he again wrapped himself in his cloak, and lay down on his bed to wait for the castle to awaken for a new day. Only five more days to get through, before Harry would be on a train back to the Dursleys, so that they could lock him in Dudley’s second bedroom, at best to ignore him and starve him, at worst to express their displeasure in chores and punches. It didn’t seem to matter anymore to him. The great empty space inside him would still be there, and he was destined to die, sooner rather than later, he hoped fervently.

Harry managed to make his way through his classed mechanically Monday and Tuesday, avoiding discussions of what might have happened to him, and begging off both Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall’s attempts to invite him to tea. He wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, and never would be. Rumors were circulating wildly through the castle. His eyes glued to the floor in front of him, he did not even attempt to find Professor Snape, and avoided the Great Hall at meal times, finally attempting to eat some soup that Hermione forced on him just to get her to leave him alone. It took less than five minutes for his stomach to reject it.

Late Tuesday night, back again at the top of the Astronomy Tower, the thought of having to walk into the Potions classroom the next morning had him swaying as he stood in front of a low wall, surveying the ground a hundred feet below. The self-loathing struck him so hard, Harry felt he could not breathe; the bloody Savior of the wizarding world was a coward who could not even end his own pain. How could a weak, despicable freak like him defeat a powerful Dark Lord, when he couldn’t even stop himself from bleeding out inside?

Severus Snape sat in a leather armchair staring in to the brightly burning fire; June in the dungeons carried a chill, but nothing like the cold tendrils that wrapped around his heart. The Potions Master had kept to himself since his escape from the hospital wing in the early morning hours Sunday. Refusing all attempts to draw him out, he had attended his classes, assigning bookwork so that he didn’t have to expend the energy necessary to supervise brewing. He had begged off the Headmaster’s summons for tea, indicating he was still feeling the affects of the weekend torture. Students had been whispering, and he had heard to rumors that Potter had all but disappeared from view, except for his classes. Severus swirled the brandy in the snifter he held, ruthlessly pushing back the loneliness and guilt trying to seep out from under the walls he had erected. 

A pounding at the door to his quarters was the only warning he received, before the towering figure of Albus Dumbledore stood before him. The half invisible form of Harry Potter floated behind him, and was settled gently on to the plush sofa. Opening his mouth to object, vehemently, Severus snapped his jaw shut when he looked into the older wizard’s eyes. The normally twinkling blue eyes were hard chips of sapphire, the anger radiating from the powerful wizard in waves, and he took a step back unconsciously. 

“Albus?”

 

“I love you like a son, Severus Snape,” the Headmaster bit out, “but I will not hesitate to do you serious harm if you do not fulfill your responsibilities and start acting like an honorable adult!”

An arm clad in violently bright blue waved at the extremely pale boy lying all but lifeless on the couch.

“I just retrieved Harry from the Astronomy Tower, where he appeared to be poised to leap off. I have cast a sleeping spell on him, as he has not eaten nor slept since he awoke, alone, in the hospital wing around dinnertime on Sunday!” Dumbledore took a step toward him. “You have closed the bond off, Severus; you have taken from Harry the one thing that might have comforted him in the wake of what happened last weekend! Do you have any idea what your selfish act has done to him?”

Severus winced at the disappointment in the voice. True displeasure, the likes of which hadn’t been directed at him in decades, flashed through the blue eyes boring through him. 

“You have not bothered to explain to Harry what the bond means, nor have you tried to dissuade him of the idea that he raped you! He is slowly dying, Severus, and you don’t seem to care at all!” Albus Dumbledore raged at him. “And yet, you are well aware that if anything happens to him, you will die as well! I will not lose either one of you, Severus, and you will rectify this situation immediately!”

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore levitated Harry into the bedroom, settling the boy into Severus’ bed before gently removing his shoes and outer clothing, then tucking him between the sheets. He marched back into the adjoining sitting room, his eyes again pinning the Potions Master with a steely gaze.

“Your classes are covered tomorrow, and you are not to leave this room until you have come clean with Harry, and gotten him to eat something. Do not disappoint me again, Severus!”

He watched as the powerful wizard swept out of the room, swallowing stiffly. Severus knew that everything the Headmaster had said was true, and he’d been trying to deceive himself that closing the bond was to protect the boy. He had been in denial, true, but he had not thought it would have this profound an effect on the beautiful young man now sleeping in his bed. With a sigh, Severus waved down the lights, and took care of his nightly routine. For a long moment, he stood beside the bed clad in a silk nightshirt, looking down at the pale face.

Sitting on the edge, he gently brushed the fringe off Harry’s forehead, his breath catching as the teen leaned into the caress. As he carded his fingers through the soft hair, he concentrated on slowly releasing the block he’d used to seal off the bond. Slipping into bed, he lay on his back, and it was no hardship at all to pull Harry into his arms and cradle him against his chest. With a sigh, Severus closed his eyes, not expecting to sleep at all, yet falling immediately into a deep sleep.

The first thing that registered in his consciousness as Harry became aware was that he was warm and safe; the second was that the great emptiness inside him was gone, and then, that he was not alone. A warm body pressed against him from behind, an arm wrapped around his waist and legs tangled with his almost comfortably. Harry didn’t even have to think, he knew it was Snape with him, and his breathing hitched, catching deep in his chest. He moved, trying to think of a way to get free, to run and hide. The arms tightened and he cried out, struggling.

“Shhh, Harry, don’t. It’s okay, just take a deep breath for me,” a soothing voice whispered in his ear. 

Drawing in a breath, Harry slowly forced himself to relax and ease back into the embrace. As he did, Harry felt something let loose inside him and to his horror, he was crying again. Strong arms turned him and he was cradled against a hard chest, a silky layer of cloth absorbing his tears as they fell, a gentle hand rubbing his back. At the show of comfort, wracking sobs welled up in his chest, and Harry gave into the maelstrom of emotion that he’d been feeling inside. 

Severus closed his eyes, and felt the heart he wasn’t supposed to possess ache as the young man cried. Dumbledore had been right; if he’d had the courage to stay with the young Gryffindor that night in the hospital wing, he could have saved him so much grief. Instead, he had left Harry with no idea how to deal with what they had gone through, slinking back to the dungeons in true Slytherin style. Reaching through the bond, he felt almost overwhelmed by the guilt and self-loathing, and now, confusion. 

As the sobs slowed down to hiccups, Severus moved one arm down to brace Harry against him, and the other to gently stroke through the raven hair. Gathering his thoughts and his courage, he began to speak.

“The Headmaster is rather upset with me, Harry, and he is right to be. I should have stayed with you in the infirmary that night, instead of wrapping myself in my uncertainty and disappearing to the dungeons. Would you like to go out to the sitting room and have some tea?”

“No, I’d rather stay here, please.” 

“Under the concealment of the dark, Mister Potter, how Slytherin of you,” he waved up a single small candle

“Yeah,” came the muffled reply, “should have let the stupid hat put me there like it wanted too.”

The Head of Slytherin House blinked once, and then again, before pushing that conversation away for some other time. He cleared his throat lightly, wondering how to start in a way that would not further the damage already done. He settled Harry against him so that his length was pressing against Severus’ side, his head resting on Severus’ chest. In a gesture meant to comfort, his hand still carded slowly through the soft raven hair.

“First and foremost, I want you to know that your actions during the time we were in captivity were well thought out and well executed. Do you understand what I am saying? You did everything right, Harry, going into the binding willingly and even…consummating the bond…”

Harry had stiffened, and tried to pull away, but Severus held fast, hand continuing to stroke through the silky hair.

“Wormtail poured an aphrodisiac potion of some type down your throat, which is why you acted as you did.” Fingers slid from his hair to his chin, bringing up his face until they could see each other’s eyes. “The only thing I regret is that I was not able to forewarn you. I feel that I am the one who has impinged on your virtue.” 

Holding the emerald eyes in the dimness, Severus leaned down slowly and pressed a kiss to the surprised lips. The rightness of it and the pull of the bond fought him as he drew back, and Harry caught at his nightshirt.

“Would you…would you do that again?” The green eyes seemed to glow, and Severus found he could deny them nothing.

Leaning in, he captured the slightly chapped lips, sucking the lower lip gently as he ran his tongue along the seam. Harry opened his mouth with a soft sigh, and the kiss turned desperate and needy. Harry was inexperienced, but not at all tentative, mimicking the older man’s actions until Severus ripped his mouth away. Panting, he pulled the teenager’s head back to his chest and struggled to slow his breathing.

“The bond the Dark Lord used was ancient magic, which binds us for life, and in all things. As such, we will be able to hear what each other is thinking, feel what the other is feeling, and only be able to have consensual sexual relations with each other. I believe that there is also a proximity bond woven in, which will require that we spend at least a few hours of each day together.”

“I am not sure what all that means, exactly, but I do know that I feel differently now than I did when I woke up,” Harry replied. He tilted his head up, the emerald eyes beseeching him. “You did something to the bond, didn’t you?”

Severus closed his eyes tightly, “Yes, I thought if I closed it off, you would be better off.”

“You thought? Leaving me to wake up, alone and aching with emptiness? That was how you thought I would be better off!?” Harry snarled, struggling again to get free.  
Severus kept his arms locked around the young man, wondering how to start to untangle the mess he found himself in, one of his own making.

“What can I do, Harry, to reassure you that it will never happen again?” 

The obsidian eyes did not flinch as Harry glared into them, trying to gauge their sincerity. The tight knot in his chest had eased as the older man continued to hold him, the sense of wellbeing seeping into him from their entwined bodies. Harry knew enough about soul-bonds to know that this was forever, and knew that he would need this contact, this warmth, to ground him. 

“I need you to promise me that you won’t try and shut me out again, Professor, and that if this is to be our bedroom, that when we are in this room, there is no fighting, no sarcasm, no hurting, just us, okay?” The emerald eyes beseeched him, knowing that he needed a refuge against the turmoil in his life.

Obsidian eyes met his, and Harry could feel the older wizard reach through the bond to understand what it was he needed. As he watched the shifting emotions in the depths of the darkness, he felt tendrils of gentle, unsure emotion reach out to each other, and Harry’s world shifted as recognition passed between them. It was tentative and uncertain, but it was a base to build love on.

“I give you my oath, as a wizard, that I will never attempt to seal off our bond, Harry, and that our bedroom will be a sanctuary from the outside world, for both of us.”

Warmth burst from his chest and radiated outward, but he did not break eye contact. There was one last thing he knew they must do before he could accept what had happened to them completely. 

“I accept your oath, Professor, and pledge an oath of my own as well to do the same.”

Severus smiled slightly, “I think you should call me Severus when we are in our own rooms, Harry. Now, we need to get you something to eat…”

“No…Severus, I need you to…to make love to me, now, to take away the memories of being forced,” Harry implored him, a trembling hand reaching up to stroke his chest. 

Severus searched the pale face intently before groaning and taking the soft pink lips in a hungry kiss. Despite what had happened between them, he knew Harry was still an innocent, and set out to seduce him with soft hands, and warm lips. Clothing was shed and magic crackled between heated skins as Severus slowly worshipped the lean, toned form beneath him. Fingertips stroked, finding sensitive spots, lips teased nipples and trailed down a firm abdomen. Taking the burgeoning tip into his mouth, lean hands anchored the bucking hips as he took Harry to oblivion in just a few strokes. With gentle fingers, Severus prepared his bond-mate, softly explaining what he was doing, and how it should feel, as Harry’s erection returned rapidly. Easing himself into the tight, velvet heat, the older man was lost when Harry arched up to meet him. Allowing Harry to dictate the motion, Severus lost himself to the rhythm, spilling himself explosively into the young wizard as he felt Harry’s second climax take him.

A whispered cleaning charm was followed Severus tugging the blanket up around them, knowing that they both had felt the world right itself as they had come together. With a sigh, Severus gathered Harry to his chest, and for the first time since they were captured, allowed himself to believe that the two of them had a future together. Pressing a kiss to a sweat-damp temple, he followed Harry into sleep.


	2. Captured

The newly reconciled pair slept until mid-morning Wednesday, before hunger pulled them from the warm blankets. Freshening up in the bathroom before joining the older wizard in the cozy eating nook off a small kitchen area, Harry was surprised to find food already laid out on the table. Severus was clad in soft black cotton pants and a white short sleeve pullover, while Harry had on a borrowed white silk nightshirt. He stood in the doorway and watched the Potions Master turned scrambled eggs out on to two plates with an economy of movement. He looked up, no doubt feeling the teenager’s disbelief through their bond.

“Yes, I quite enjoy cooking, I just never bother when it is just myself I am feeding,” the onyx eyes lingered on the translucent fabric. “That overexcited house-elf of yours brought your trunk down from your dorm if you’d like to change.”

“I only have huge, ragged hand-me-downs from my obese cousin, or my school robes, neither of which I want to wear,” he studied the floor, his cheeks flaming.

“Well then, we will remedy that shortly, for now, sit and eat some breakfast.”

They ate in a comfortable silence at a leisurely pace, the bond humming between them. Harry cleared the table when they were done, and watched Severus cast the spell for the dishes to clean themselves. Beckoning Harry with a hand, Severus led him back into the bedroom, where he stopped and drew him in to a kiss, before continuing through to the bathroom. As he was showing Harry where everything was kept, Harry caught sight of the ugly black tattoo on his left forearm. Gently grasping his hand, Harry lifted the arm to study the deep red, angry looking skin that surrounded the Dark Mark.

“He’s been using this to torture you, hasn’t he?” Emerald eyes bore into onyx.

“Yes, off and on since our escape,” Severus answered him honestly, “and I am not sure how I am going to stop it.”

“Is there a way to block the pain, or do I just need to go kill him for you to be free?”

The dark eyes flared at his words. “You are not going to attempt anything until you are fully trained, but perhaps we can research to see if there is a way to break the connection, as we could use it to break the link the Dark Lord has with your scar as well.”

The argument died on Harry’s tongue, and he knew the older wizard was right; he needed to continue training before he tried anything foolish. No one else would die if he could help it.

“All right, Severus, but I’d like to ask Hermione to help us as she is brilliant when it comes to researching stuff.” 

The Potions Master looked at him sharply for a moment, and then acquiesced with a nod. The Granger chit could be annoying, but there was no doubt she was brilliant. He looked down to where Harry still stroked his forearm with gently fingers and could not help shivering at the touch. He felt a stab of guilt that Harry had been forced in to the situation they found themselves in, even more guilt when he admitted that he had been attracted to the sixteen year old for almost a year. The emerald eyes widened as they sought his, questioning what the boy felt through the bond.

“Can you hear me when I think, or just what I am feeling?” Severus asked him, stepping closer to Harry.

“I’m not sure, I know you feel guilty about the bond, but there is something else.” 

Severus cupped his face, meeting the glimmer gems. “I feel guilty because this was forced on you, and because it is no hardship for me, I had already begun to find you rather attractive.”

“You did?” Harry asked in surprise, his face became hot. “I’ve had a crush on you since the beginning of sixth year.”

“Brilliant,” Severus told him with a small smile, and leaned down to kiss him, pulling back before he lost control. “Now, in to the shower with you.” 

Harry held on to his arm, a shy smile on his now swollen lips. “Will you wash my back?”

Severus found that he could not say no to the invitation in the glimmering emerald eyes. Stripping quickly, his cock already twitching with interest, the Potions Master stepped in behind his young bond mate. Taking the soap into his hand, Severus backed Harry into the spray of water and began to wash his neck and shoulders, soapy hands smoothing over the almost hairless chest. Dusky pink nipples were already hard as he caressed each with a fingertip, glancing down to see the jutting erection the young man was already sporting. Kneeling, he continued down the tight, flat abdomen, and bypassing the groin, began to wash each leg.

Harry’s embarrassment about being naked in front of the older wizard in the light, gave way to arousal as he felt the tingles of magic from Severus’ fingertips where everywhere he touched Harry. The slick hands caressed him, and Harry had to shift his legs open wider so that that he didn’t fall over. Feeling his breathing hitch as those hands came near his cock, he almost groaned when he felt the hands start on his thigh.

‘ _Oh please, touch me there! No one has every touched me like this! I want…I want…_ ”

Severus stood and turned Harry towards the tile wall, rubbing the soap over his shoulders and back. He could feel his breathing accelerate, and knew the teenager did not realize they were sharing his thoughts.

“ _What, love, what do you want? Can you tell me?_ ”

Harry shivered at the silky voice in his head, and the fingers dipping down to slowly rub circles across his arse cheeks, trailing down the cleft between them. Gasping, he pushed back against the fingers, almost sobbing as he spoke out loud.

“I don’t know! I’ve never done…I’ve never had…”

Severus turned him around, pushing him back against the shower wall, rubbing their cocks together, and they both moaned as the tingles of magic mixed with the sensation of skin rubbing.

“Show me, Harry, show me what you’ve done before,” Severus urged.

Trembling, Harry reached between them and wrapping his hand around his cock and started to pull. Severus stopped him, opening Harry’s hand so that it went around both of their erections, and Severus wrapped his hand around Harry’s. With a cry of delight at the sensation of pricks rubbing against each other, the tingle of magic from skin on skin, and Severus’ hand on him, Harry thrust his hips frantically. With a guttural cry, the teenager came, drawing Severus into his climax as he felt Harry’s through their bond. Tugging his bond-mate into his arms, Severus kissed him gently as he waited for the tremors to stop.

The rest of the afternoon was spent curled on the couch together, talking. Dumbledore’s pensieve sat on the low table in front of them, and they had used it several times to examine a particularly hard memory. Harry had shown Severus what his cupboard looked like, and what a ‘normal’ Christmas was in the Dursley home. In turn, Severus showed Harry the cruel and embittered man that his father was, how he was groomed to take the Dark Mark, and how he had quickly became disillusioned with Lord Voldemort. Harry touched on the subject of his father and the Marauders, trying to get the older wizard to see that he knew nothing of his father, and was nothing like James. Severus agreed quietly, knowing he’d been the one at fault for his prejudice against the boy Harry had been. 

Harry sat beside curled the older man, his head nestled into Severus’ shoulder, as his eyes stared out the enchanted window beside the fireplace. The view of the sweeping lawns and lake in the late afternoon sun went unseen as the young Gryffindor tried to figure out how to ask the question he’d been dreading. 

“What will happen now, Severus? I mean, when I’m in class, how should I act?”

Severus smiled at the trepidation in the young man’s voice. “I am no longer a spy, Harry, and there for will not have to play the part of Death Eater for the benefit of the Death Eaters children who attend Hogwarts. I have no doubt that the Dark…that Voldemort will manage to tell the press that we have been bonded, more as a way to discredit me and bring suspicion on you. You will have to call me Professor in class, and be respectful, however.”

Harry snorted. “I wasn’t respectful before, why should I start now?” He asked cheekily.

“Insolent brat.”

“Greasy git.”

Leaning down to kiss him, Severus pushed Harry back on the couch and settled on top of him. The warm weigh pinning him to the couch felt wonderful, Harry thought, as he responded to the kiss enthusiastically. A groan came from the older man as he pulled back, bracing himself on an arm, and brushed the hair out of Harry’s face, a tenderness there that looked out of place on the normally stoic face. It softened the hard angles, making him look years younger, and Harry brought a hand up to cup Severus’ face.

“It’s not going to be easy is it, when we have to leave here in the morning?’

“No, it will not, for either of us. We will both have to watch out for Death Eaters in training among all the Houses, as Slytherin is not unique in those. They will not like the idea that we have escaped the Dark Lord’s wrath, that I am a traitor, and you are the Boy-Who-Bloody-Won’t-Die.” 

Harry laughed and Severus dipped his head for another kiss. 

“And I may not live through Ron’s disgust of the situation in general and you in particular. I think Hermione will be all right with it all, once we’ve talked. I am glad,” Harry looked at him sadly, “that I won’t have to sleep in the dorm with them anymore. Seamus has become increasingly hostile; as his mother thinks I will get him hurt or killed, like I have done with Cedric and Sirius.”

The wave of sadness and guilt that hit Severus through the bond was staggering, and it horrified the older man to think what this teenager had been through in his life. He wondered just how safe the young Gryffindor was inside this castle, and started mentally preparing to strengthen the protective fields around their rooms. Getting up, he disappeared into the bedroom, coming back with a silver necklace, a pendant of a silver serpent with emerald eyes dangling from it. Harry sat up, watching him curiously, as the Slytherin sat down and slid the necklace over his head.

“This is an emergency portkey, Harry, wear it against your skin and if you every need to escape, say ‘serpent house’ and it will bring you here.”

It was at that moment that Voldemort chose to express his displeasure at the Potions Master’s betrayal, and he grabbed his left forearm, a sharp intact of breath the only sign of his pain. He curled his body protectively over the arm wrapped around his middle, the tattoo felt like it was shredding the flesh around it, his hand and fingers going numb. Severus struggled to breath, the pain so intense that he found darkness creeping into the periphery of his vision. The fingers of his right hand tried to gouge the skin, trying anything to get it off of him, as Harry watched horrified. 

Feeling the panic and immense pain through the bond, Harry also caught the desperation in the older wizard, and caught his intent to cut off his arm to stop the pain. Grabbing the arm, Harry pulled with all his might, wrestling with his bond-mate. Maneuvering himself into Severus’ lap, Harry pinned him back as he struggled to get a look at the Dark Mark. The skin around it was turning black, great blisters of blood forming around the tattoo, and Harry could see the snake was writhing inside the skull. Severus shoved him forward, and Harry fell still holding his arm at eye level, his forehead impacting against the Mark, a burst of magic hit him as it touched his scar.

‘ _Kill him, my serpent, kill the traitor!_ ’

Harry was plunge into darkness bathed in a red glow, the glowing green snake highlighted in red against the bone white skull as it struck again and again into the translucent alabaster skin. 

‘ _No, leave him alone! Get out, snake!’_

 _‘You think you are stronger that I, Potter? Kill him now, serpent!_ ’

Harry’s anger flared and he concentrated of drawing from both he and Severus’ magic until he had glowing strands of gold and silver magic, entwined together, twisting like a living thing, He pushed that out through his scar, enclosing the ugly serpent and the pulsing strand of red magic that bond the Dark Mark to his bond-mate’s soul.

‘ _Serpent, I command you leave this place_ ,’ Harry screamed, ‘ _NOW_!’

The glowing snake fled into the skull which had begun to glow red, and the undulating strand of gold and silver surrounded it. With one final surge of the growing love he felt for the man he was bond to, Harry encircled the skull and destroyed it, pushing the dark magic from Severus’ soul, and then succumb to the darkness. 

A groan from under his ear woke him, and Harry shifted closer to the warmth that pressed against his side. Hand slipped gently into his hair, and began to softly stroke through it. A smile touched his lips as he became aware of a feeling akin to awe coming through the bond, and he leaned into the gentle touch even as he willed his eyes open. A garishly bright shade of fuchsia assaulted his blurry vision and Harry groaned as he closed them again, quickly.

“It’s all right, love, it’s just Albus, I think.”

A pair of glasses was pressed in to his hand, and Harry slipped them on before opening his eyes again. He saw that he was in the bedroom of Severus’ rooms, his head resting on the older wizard’s chest, and the Headmaster sitting in the chair beside the bed. His head ached dully and he could see a bandage wound around Severus’ left arm. The memory of the torture Severus had suffered had him sitting up suddenly and grabbing for the arm. His head spun and Severus tugged him back down to his chest. 

“Easy, Harry, just lie here, and drink this.” 

A vial was pressed into his hand, and Harry swallowed the contents without question. “What happened?”

“I am not really sure, and we were hoping you could tell us.”

Severus sat up against the pillows, pulling Harry up to lean back against him, and the elderly wizard beside the bed watched the interplay with a sharp gleam in his eyes.

“I remember you were in agony, and I was trying to look at your arm. You pushed me, and I fell forward,” Harry frowned at him.

Severus watched his face intently. “You went into a trace of sorts, began hissing in parseltongue, before I felt a burst of heat at the mark before I passed out. When I awoke, you were unconscious and the Dark Mark was gone.”

Harry blinked at him, the potion having eased the ache in his head. He reached out and pulled the arm toward him, gingering lifting the edge of the wrapping, and saw raw, angry skin, but no ugly black tattoo.

“It’s gone,” he looked between the two older men.

“Do you remember what happened, my boy?” Dumbledore asked his eyes intent on Harry’s.

Harry closed his eyes, concentrating on the memory, before opening them to look at Severus. “I saw a snake biting Severus, and heard Voldemort telling it to kill you. I concentrated on surrounding the skull with our magic, and then told the snake to leave you and get out. I guess it obeyed me.”

An elegant eyebrow arched at the simple explanation. “Indeed, Mister Potter, it would seem it did.” 

“Intriguing,” Albus Dumbledore said, the sharp eyes assessing him as if they had never seen him before, “very intriguing, Harry, well done.”


	3. Harry's Friends

Severus Snape swept into his dungeon classroom exactly on the hour, his robes billowing. He allowed the door to bang shut behind him; stepping up to the blackboard, he scowled darkly at the silent group of fourth year Slytherin and Gryffindor students, before slowly rolling up his right sleeve. Maintaining his forbidding expression, he did something he hadn’t done in twenty years: Severus proceeded to roll up his left sleeve, exposing pale, unblemished skin. Ignoring several gasps from his audience, he began to lecture the group on the complexities of working with fluxweed and other potion ingredients that must be picked at the full moon. 

A short while later he set them to work on an easily brewed potion that utilized the ingredients he had discussed. With only a week of the term left, he could afford to go easy on this group of students, and he silently strolled the room with a watchful eye. His bond with Harry was quiet, and the older wizard hoped that the young Gryffindor had not encountered too many problems so far today. They had breakfasted in their rooms before joining the flow of students in the hallway as they headed for their first class. Harry would be attending Charms at the moment, followed by double Transfiguration before lunch. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology were on his schedule for the afternoon. His eyes darting from cauldron to cauldron, the Potions Master continued to let his thoughts drift to his mate, knowing he would be safe in Hagrid’s class, as well as Minerva’s, but the journey to the green houses might be a concern.

Harry felt the slight twinge of worry through the bond he shared with Severus, and knew it was directed at him. His eyes never leaving Professor Flitwick, who was demonstrating a basic healing charm, Harry tried to send reassurance through the bond. It was still hard for him to separate the cruel, acid-tongued professor with the quiet, caring man Harry had started to get to know during the past two days. Intellectually it made sense that he needed to be the bastard when they didn’t know if Voldemort was truly dead, and to behave in an even more biased manner after the Dark Lord’s return two years ago; still, the change in the older man astounded Harry. Now, with his role as a spy discovered, Severus could actively attempt to persuade his Slytherins not to follow the evil wizard. 

The removal of his Dark Mark the previous night had had a profound effect on the older man, and Harry was pleased when he thought of it. His mate was truly free, never again would he have to put his life in jeopardy by serving the evil wizard, who believed torture was fun. While the teenager did not expect the older man to become a nicer man overnight, he did hope that he would be able to slowly relax and loosen up. Perhaps now he would not act like such a git in potions class, Harry thought as he walked toward Transfiguration with Ron and Hermione.

Breakfast had been a rather strained meal for the other two thirds of the Golden Trio. Professor Dumbledore had met with Harry’s two best friends, Ginny Weasley, and their Head of House the night before to explain what had happened. Harry’s friends had been extremely worried about him when he’d distanced himself from everyone after being taken from Hogsmeade. Learning that he had been bound to the Potions Master had done nothing to ease Ron and Hermione’s concerns, even with the Headmaster’s reassurances. When Harry did not show up at breakfast, the two had begun discussing plans to storm the dungeons if he wasn’t there by lunch, and had thrown themselves at him when he appeared in the Great Hall before they left for their first class. Both talking at once, they proceeded to inform him of their concerns, peppering him with questions and comments as they headed towards their first class.

In a low voice, Harry answered the most urgent questions, trying to save the more personal explanations for a more private arena. He assured his best friends that he was okay, and that Snape had been decent to him once they had come to an understanding. By this time, they had reached the door to the Transfiguration classroom, and Harry promised to continue the discussion at lunch. The double period with Gryffindor and Slytherin students seemed to drag by, as Professor McGonagall had they practicing transfiguring chairs out of quills. With the professor’s eyes seemingly glued to Harry, there was no chance for any further conversation.

“So, tell us what happened, Harry!” Hermione hissed at him as they slid onto the bench at the Gryffindor table at lunch.

Harry sat down before raising his eyes towards the head table and meeting the obsidian gaze trained on him. Giving Severus a small smile, he turned back to his own table. Feeling those eyes still on him, Harry began to load food onto his plate, ignoring Hermione’s pointed look. Ron was shoveling food into his mouth already, and had missed the byplay entirely. 

“He’s watching to make sure I eat,” Harry grumbled. “He’s worse than you are.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, and Harry sighed, leaning closer to whisper.

“Voldemort used an ancient enslavement bond on us, trying to enslave Sev…Snape to me so that I would take all his magical power from him. Then Voldemort was going to enslave me to himself, and take both our powers, thinking that would make him invincible. He threw us back in our cell after torturing us, which is when Severus told me how we could turn the bond into a soul-mate bond, and I agreed to it.”

Ron stared at him opened mouthed, half-chewed food visible. “You agreed to it?”

Harry glared at him. “Would you rather I had been enslaved to Snape and Voldemort, Ron?”

“But, now you’re…well, mate, you’re married to the greasy git!”

“I rather figured that one out for myself, Ron! And he’s not greasy, really.”

The redhead’s jaw dropped further, and there was a green tinge to his face. “You mean, you actually…eeww, Harry! How could you let him touch you like that?”

Looking back down at his plate, Harry felt the guilt well up in him again, and he pushed his barely touched plate away and rose abruptly. “Actually, it was worse than that, Ron. I raped him, and no one deserves that. I’ll see you at Hagrid’s.”

Grabbing his bag, Harry fled from the Great Hall, not looking back to see the concerned obsidian eyes that followed him, nor the three seventh years that quickly followed. Moving out of the Entrance and down the stairs, he veered off to the right, headed along the side of the castle instead of going the more direct route to Hagrid’s hut. Harry could not believe that Ron was so obtuse at times; didn’t he realize that it was done and there was no going back? It had been the best alternative available in a bad situation. Why couldn’t he just accept it and move on? 

Severus shot a searing glare at the redheaded Gryffindor, who shrank from it even as he tried to dodge the blow to the back of his head that Granger delivered. At least the chit was intelligent enough to know when the boy was being an idiot, and was willing to try to get that across by whatever means necessary. The Potions Master could only guess at what stupidity had come out of that mouth, by the flash of guilt he had felt through the bond with Harry. Torn between following his young mate and giving Harry some time to calm down on his own, Severus lingered a few minutes, carefully monitoring the bond.

As he slowed his steps to gaze down the sloping lawn towards Hagrid’s, Harry was still deep in thought. He knew that he had to get over the guilt, that Severus had known what would happen. One might even consider his foreknowledge and acceptance of the requirements of the soul-bonding to be consent. 

The blow came from out of nowhere, a solid punch that caught Harry high on the side of his face, near his temple, and sent him reeling. His glasses flew off, landing in the grass beyond his reach, but he could clearly see three boys: two Ravenclaw seventh years whom he did not know, and a Slytherin, McNair, he thought. A foot connected with his ribs in a vicious kick, And Harry curled up to protect his torso, extending his right hand towards his glasses. His aggressors snickered at him.

“The Dark Lord is most unhappy with you, Potter, and that foul traitor, Snape. He will be very pleased when we bring you to him.” 

Head ducked, Harry whispered. “ _Accio glasses._ ”

His glasses slapped into his palm, and Harry slid them on as surreptitiously as he could. The three students continued to taunt him, their wands now drawn and pointed at him. The Slytherin aimed another kick at his head, and Harry ducked, rolling up to his feet.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Harry shouted, his right hand sweeping towards the three.

Their wands jumped into his outstretched hand, and the three seventh years flew back and slammed into the ground. Harry lurched to his feet, his head throbbing and his side burning. McNair was the first to recover and dove at his legs, knocking Harry back before he could get out of the way. Kicking out of the other teenager’s grasp, Harry scrambled back out of reach as the boy lunged again.

“ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ”

Harry looked up at the sound of Severus’ voice, his heart pounding, and relief flooding through him. Binding all three of the would-be Death Eaters, the Potions Master took the three wands Harry still held and turned them over to the Headmaster, who seemed to materialize beside them. Harry watched with bemused eyes as the older wizard turned his attention to him, and wrapped an arm around his waist. Swaying slightly, Harry leaned into the comforting warmth, thankful for the support. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny appeared around them, partially shielding the two from the eyes of the gathering crowd. A hand cupped his face, and Harry resisted, unwilling to leave the warmth his face was pressed against.

“Harry, you are bleeding. I need to see how badly you are hurt,” Severus said coaxingly.

With a sigh, Harry relented; when he lifted his head, Hermione gasped in dismay. The blow to his head had split his eyebrow, and his eye was swelling closed rapidly. Harry’s hands gripped Severus’ robes for balance as the Potions Master tilted his head slightly and gently probed the area with a thumb. Harry hissed in pain, but stood still for the exam. Severus slipped a hand into the wild raven hair to cup the back of his head; mindful of the watching crowd, he dropped his hand after only a brief touch. Turning, he drew his young lover to his side. Glaring at the tall redhead in front of him, he directed his comments toward the brown-haired witch.

“Miss Granger, I need to take Harry to the hospital wing for treatment right now. Would like you and your friends to join us this evening after dinner?”

“Yes, Professor Snape,” she told him, putting a reassuring hand on Harry’s back. “We’ll be there.”

The Potions Master nodded in acknowledgement, and allowed the three Gryffindors to precede them, clearing the way to the Infirmary. The trip to see Poppy Pomfrey brought the usual poking and prodding, disgusting potions, and healing charms; Severus was finally able to get Harry out of the medi-witch’s clutches with the promise that he would indeed rest for the rest of the afternoon. Feeling the teenager’s irritation through the bond, Severus just smirked, and whisked him back down to their chambers. Stripping Harry out of his robe and uniform, Severus ignored his protests about not being sleepy; soon the mild sleeping draught he knew Poppy had given the young man kicked in, and he fell asleep mid-yell.

Brushing the fringe back off Harry’s forehead, he leaned down to kiss the unblemished cheek, and murmured to the sleeping teenager. “I need to go send my last two classes to the library, I will be right back.” 

Harry woke up slowly, surrounded by warmth. He was enfolded in strong arms, nestled back against a lean, hard frame, with an arm draped over his waist, its slender fingers softly stroking his abdomen. Arching back, Harry rubbed slowly against his mate, encouraging the hand splayed across his stomach until he was pulled back against his mate. Arousal flared in the bond, and the fingers began to stroke again, wide swathes across his belly. Harry gasped as they brushed against his hardening cock, and his hips thrust involuntarily. Maneuvering onto his back, he looked up into dark, glittering eyes that watched him closely.

“What time is it?” 

“Last classes are about to get out. How are you feeling?”

“Hmmm…” Harry’s movement against his hand was the sole response.

Severus trailed a fingertip along the velvety skin on the underside of the now firm erection. “Are you sure you feel up to any exertion, Harry?” 

Harry shivered at the sensual whisper, enjoying the feeling of the warm tip of Severus’ tongue outlining the outer shell of his ear and the curve of his jaw. The questing lips settled over his and Harry sighed at the touch, opening for easier access. Moaning, Harry stroked a hand down the older man’s chest and ribcage to his waist, trying to entice Severus into more contact. A hand at his hip halted his motion, and the older wizard moved over him and settled on his knees between Harry’s legs without breaking the kiss. Warm fingertips brushed over the inside of his thighs, even as Severus released his lips to trail down his throat. Harry reached for his mate, only to have his hands pushed gently away. 

“No, let me show you some of the things you’ve never experienced,” Severus whispered. “Just relax and enjoy.”

Harry nodded and relaxed into the soft sheets, concentrating on the feel of the fingers that traced his hips, and the warm, wet tongue laving his skin. A jolt of pure pleasure shot to his groin when first one nipple, then the other, was sucked in to the hot mouth. Nipping and licking, the tongue mapped out his torso, then slid down his abdomen to spear into his navel, while the fingertips ghosted up and down over his straining cock. It was hard to separate the sensations he was feeling from the erotic pleasure that Severus was feeling in giving them to him. A hand slipped between his legs to cup his balls. His hips left the bed when he felt the first brush of a talented tongue on the weeping head of his cock, sweeping from tip to root. Harry rolled his head from side to side as the new, incredible feelings made the coil of excitement tighten in his stomach. 

Severus circled his tongue back up and around the straining erection before succumbing to temptation. When he slipped the tip into his mouth, the slightly bitter taste was ambrosia, and he could feel his mate’s balls tightening. Easing the length deeper into his mouth, he began to move up and down, feeling the climax build in Harry. Moving onto his knees, he reached down to grab his own throbbing cock and began fisting it just as Harry exploded into his mouth, drawing the older wizard over the edge as well. After lapping up every drop, Severus muttered a cleaning charm and lay back down next to Harry, drawing him into a tight embrace.

“I think I might like that activity, Sev’rus,” Harry muttered sleepily. “Have you…have you had many boyfriends before?”

Pressing a kiss into the sweaty tangle of hair near his ear, Severus smiled. “I have had both male and female lovers in the past, and enjoyed the charms of both. It has always been more the attraction of the person than the gender for me.”

“And now you have to settle for me,” the teenager said softly.

Severus turned his mate’s head with a hand until their eyes met. “Do you truly have no concept of how attractive you are, Harry?”

The emerald eyes widened. “I guess not, so that means that you are all right with this bond, with me? That we can make go of this?”

The onyx eyes held his. “Do you think you can learn to live with me, the great greasy git, and be happy, Harry?”

Harry nodded and slowly smiled, leaning to kiss his mate. “Yes, I think so, especially if you stick to your resolution to stop treating me so miserably. Besides, I told you last night that I’ve had a crush on you since the start of the year,” he smiled shyly.

Severus laughed at the look, a rich sound that Harry decided he liked very much. The older wizard leaned in for another kiss; when it ended, Harry found himself dragged into the bathroom for a quick shower to wash off the remaining blood from his face, and remnants of their love-making. Dressed in pajamas and a dark green dressing gown of Severus’, Harry arranged himself on the couch while Severus requested dinner from the house-elves. Knowing that the next day was the last day of classes, Harry didn’t even bother studying; instead, he glanced through a Quidditch magazine as Severus graded the last of the essays he had for his younger years. 

Harry drifted off to sleep and was awoken by a kiss to his cheek. Looking up, he saw Hermione looking down at him anxiously. Severus stood behind the couch and helped the young wizard to sit up; Hermione sat beside him, Ron took an armchair, and Ginny sat on the carpet beside the couch. Taking his usual chair opposite the couch, Severus glared at Ron as Harry assured the two witches that he was fine.

“Mister Weasley,” Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy. “I am well aware of your opinion of me. You are Harry’s best friend, therefore I will make the attempt to be understanding. At the same time, I ask that you take into consideration that Harry and I were forced into a life or death situation, and did what we thought was the best for all. I will not have you belittling him or the relationship that we now have, no matter how it came about. Do I make myself clear?”

Harry could see the muscles in Ron’s throat working, and felt sorry for his friend, but he was glad that Severus had made it clear where they stood. The Potions Master knew how Harry felt about his friends, but was determined that they be supportive of the young man. 

“Very clear, sir,” the redheaded turned to Harry. “I didn’t mean to upset you at lunch, Harry, and you know that I open my mouth before engaging my brain sometimes. We are still friends, after all.”

Harry smiled, hoping that the faint edge of panic in Ron’s face was due to Severus’ scowl, and not the idea of the situation. The four friends talked amicably about the end of the school year and their plans for the summer. After an attack on the Burrow the previous summer, the Wesley family had taken up residence with Remus Lupin at the house on Grimmauld Place. Sirius had left everything to Harry, who in turn had provided for Remus, and allowed the Order to maintain their Headquarters at the residence. Hermione’s parents had also been invited to share quarters there, under the threat that Voldemort would target Harry’s best friends. 

“Where are you going to be this summer, Harry?” Hermione asked him, throwing a speculative look at the Potions Master.

“I’m not sure. Severus?” Harry looked at his mate, and was surprised to feel apprehension through the bond.

Severus cleared his throat, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “The Headmaster says you must return to Privet Drive, Harry, at least for the first part of the summer.”

Harry sat in stunned silence, and it was his turn to flood the bond with apprehension and trepidation. As he watched, an evil smirk flashed across the ex-Death Eater’s face.

“No need to worry, Harry, you will not be alone.”


	4. The Dursleys

The last few days of the term passed without incident, and before he knew it, Harry was sliding into his place next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table for the Leaving Feast. Feeling the heat of a dark gaze on him from the head table, Harry smiled slightly, and looked up to meet the obsidian gaze. He felt reassurance flood through him, and nodded slightly in return just as Ron leaned over to whisper at him.

“Do you see anyone missing from the Slytherin table, Harry?”

Glancing over to the other House table, Harry let his eyes sweep down the benches, noting a handful of Slytherin seventh years missing and several sixth years, as well. Thinking over the names of the ones he knew, Harry gasped, and jerked his head around to look at his mate. Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Avery, Parkinson, and Zabini were all gone, all children of Death Eaters. The silver blond head of Draco Malfoy stood out like a beacon at the table. By the expression on Severus’ face, he had noted the absences as well; if the burn of anger coming through the bond was any indication, he was not happy. 

Professor Dumbledore stood, and thanked everyone for a good year, admonished them about being careful and remaining safe during the summer, and awarded the House Cup to Gryffindor. Snickering at the irritation he detected through the bond, probably in answer to the unabashed glee Harry had sent through first, Harry clapped as hard as any other Gryffindor. Finally the food appeared, and for a long time, the scrape and rattle of silverware over dishes was all that was heard. 

After the Feast, Harry joined his housemates for an end of term party in the Common Room, spending the evening talking with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville. Every one of them, even Ron to a lesser degree, had accepted the new relationship between Harry and Severus. Neville, who was thankful that he no longer had to take Potions, thought that the evil Potions Master must have some redeeming qualities if Harry liked him. When he expressed this thought, Ginny smacked him on the back of the head, much as Hermione did Ron in moments of stupidity; Harry had to wonder if this was a female way of showing affection. He could just imagine Severus’ reaction to being smack on the head, and snickered.

“What’s so funny, Harry?”

“Nothing really,” Harry said, looking for a diversion. “I wonder who will be in the World Cup game this year. What do you think, Ron?”

Saying his goodbyes a short time later, Harry flooed directly to the sitting room of their chambers in the dungeons, where he was surprised to find Severus sitting in his chair reading a Potions Journal. Brushing himself off, Harry moved to stand next to the older wizard. Severus looked up, set the magazine aside, and drew Harry into his lap. The young man smiled and nestled against his mate. He tucked his head underneath Severus’ chin, liking the feeling of being held close to the man’s chest.

“Severus?”

“Yes?’

“Are we riding the train tomorrow to King’s Cross?” Harry nuzzled the slender column of warm skin.

A shiver ran through the older wizard as he felt the warm lips trail across his throat. He tightened his grip on the young wizard, lightly stroking Harry’s thigh with his free hand. 

“No, we will be flooing to Grimmauld Place after lunch and Apparating from there to the station.”

Harry smirked at the thought; Severus had taught him to Apparate illegally last summer when they had begun their training. He ran his tongue across his mate’s Adam’s apple, sucking gently on the soft skin. Feeling Severus shiver again, Harry continued his explorations, dragging the tip of his tongue up to trace the strong jaw line, the rasp of whiskers tickling him. Amusement and arousal flared through the link, and then Harry found himself sliding off the comfortable lap, and had to struggle to keep from falling.

“Hey!” He yelped, swinging around to fall into his mate’s arms as he rose from his chair.

Severus smiled at him, pulling the young man against him, and bending to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

“I do believe it is time for bed.” 

The Hogwarts Express was just pulling in to the station the next day as Harry and Severus materialized on the platform. With a nod, the Potions Master disappeared under the invisibility cloak as the train chugged to a stop, and Harry moved to retrieve his trunk from where Ron and Hermione had stored it for him. Harry exchanged goodbyes with his friends and hugged Missus Weasley, who had arrived to meet Ron and Ginny. After assuring his friends that he would be all right in the care of Snape for the summer, he moved through the barrier and out into the main station. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon stood waiting for him at the curb, both wearing dark scowls.

“Get over here, boy! We have been waiting for half an hour already!” Uncle Vernon bellowed.

Aunt Petunia’s beady eyes darted around, possibly looking for the same type of reception committee that had greeted them at the start of last summer. Harry remained silent and rolled his trunk over to the car. He lifted it into the boot as his uncle fumed silently, and then opened the back door. Pausing long enough for Severus to scoot in before him, Harry climbed in and shut the door. Buckling his seat belt, Harry stared out the window as the car reversed out of the car park and headed for the road. An unseen hand slid over to cover Harry’s and he jumped slightly, but did not turn his head. 

The journey passed quickly and was spent in complete silence; his relatives never asked Harry a thing, as was usual for them. When they pulled up in front of the large square house, so much like the other houses of the neighborhood, Harry got out, hesitating at the door before dragging his trunk out of the car and trailing after his aunt and uncle. Hoping that Severus had preceded him into the house, Harry was not surprised when the door slammed behind him with a resounding thud. His uncle rounded on him, backing him against the door, a hand grabbing and pulling his hair.

“I will not tolerate any of your freakishness this summer, boy,” he spat in the teenager’s face. “No more dementy things, no more ‘accidents’, no more effing owls, or you will spend the summer locked up in your cupboard! Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, Uncle Vernon.”

“And you can tell that headmaster of yours that this is it, you will not be coming back here to plague us with your abnormal behavior any longer. I have had it! Marge is right, we should have shipped you to an orphanage the moment we got landed with you! Now, get yourself upstairs! And I don’t want to hear a thing, understand?”

Harry nodded; his face burned red with humiliation as he started up the stairs. The knowledge that Severus was witnessing this made his stomach churn, no matter the indignation he felt through the bond. In one respect, he knew that the Potions Master believed him to be a spoiled, pampered brat, but that was better than the reality of the relatives who hated him. With his head down, he began to roll his trunk towards the stairs; he had taken only a few steps when he felt a hand on his shoulder stop him. His aunt and uncle stared at him expectantly.

Severus took a deep breath; the anger that surged through him had to be controlled before he did something he would surely regret. Sliding his wand out of his pocket, he reached up to pull the cloak off his head, and casually handed it to his mate. He watched with a smirk as the horse-faced woman gasped, eyes rolling back in her head, and fainted. Harry dropped his trunk and caught her before she hit the floor, unfortunately. He eased her down before turning to look at his uncle. The man’s fleshy face had turned purple with rage, and his mouth opened and closed like an over-sized cod. 

“What doing you think you are doing in my house…” Vernon sputtered, before he felt the tip of a wand pressed into his throat.

“One more word and you will find yourself on the floor in a great deal of pain,” Severus told him coldly, a look of contempt on his face. “You are a useless mass of flesh, Dursley, and I would not hesitate to rid the world of your fat arse.”

Petunia stirred and sat up, screeching when she saw the black-robed man holding her husband at wand-point. The dark-haired wizard beckoned her with a finger, and she moved reluctantly to cower behind Vernon. Harry watched with interest as all of his uncle’s chins began to wobble, even the extra ones.

“Do you have any concept of how the wizarding world views the abuse and neglect of a child? Obviously not, if your actions today and what I have seen of Harry’s memories are correct. Locking a small child in a cupboard for ten years alone would ensure a stay in Azkaban, and in your case,” here, Severus prodded Vernon, “a kiss from one of the Dementors you mentioned.”

Seeing the little remaining color drain out of Petunia’s face, the former Death Eater gave a feral smile. “I see already you already have knowledge of the place. Excellent, it will make this so much easier. You were given a child to care for, and you have failed to provide even the minimum amount required, or to even treat him with human dignity.”

The dark eyes narrowed as he looked at the two pathetic examples of humanity. “I would love to have both of you writhing on the floor, screaming with pain, and it would be so easy to do!”

Vernon seemed to have gotten a second wind and blurred out. “You can’t use magic here!”

Severus’ eyes flared with rage. “I can, Dursley, and I will. You seem to be under a misguided assumption. I am neither an under aged wizard, nor a nice man. I will not hesitate to hex you.”

Something in the piggy eyes of the obese muggle made the tall wizard curl his lip, and he took a step back, muttering an incantation with a flick of his wand. With a pop, a huge, pink pig appeared where Vernon had been, and Petunia shrieked before dropping to her knees. Harry blinked in surprise, but was unable to suppress the grin that lit his face.

“Wicked, Severus!”

Inclining his head in acknowledgement, Severus again flicked his wand, transfiguring Vernon rapidly from a pig, to a toilet, to a pile of foul smelling rags, and back to his human form, still reeking. Petunia eased away from him, covering her nose, and keeping her eyes on Severus.

“Now, my name is Severus Snape, and I will be staying here with Harry for the next few weeks. You will leave us alone, you will not enter our room, and you will treat both of us with the utmost respect, or I will not be happy. Do you understand?”

Both muggles nodded vigorously, and the older wizard reached out a hand to pull Harry to him. “We will be making our own arrangements for meals.” 

Petunia stared at the two in disgust. “You can’t stay with the boy, it’s abnormal!”

“You are abnormal, woman, with your narrow minded prejudice and hatred! Harry and I are…married, and we will be sharing a bed as well as a room!” Severus snarled at the shocked woman, wrapping his arms around his mate. “I find it hard to believe that such an ugly person could have been related to a lovely, vivacious creature like Lily Evans!” Looking down his nose at the two quivering forms, he let fly one last insult.

“His father left him a bloody fortune, you know, not that I would expect him to share any with the likes of you. Too bad you didn’t treat him better.” 

The two wizards turned toward the stairs, Severus levitating their trunk behind him as Harry led him to Dudley’s second bedroom. The Potions Master took one look at the locks on the door with the cat flap at the bottom, and banished all of them. Stepping into the dark, cramped space, he shook his head, muttering to himself. Harry watched in fascination as the room as Severus charmed the room with wizarding space, expanding and brightening it. The small cot became a large mahogany four-poster with cream and navy hangings and coverings, the wardrobe expanded and changed to match the bed, and a sitting area appeared at the far end of the room. Another door appeared that led to a generously sized bathroom. The bars disappeared from the window, and it elongated to let in most of the summer sunshine. After locking and silencing charms, one final spell controlled the environment, keeping the room at a moderately cool temperature, despite the heat of the day.

Settling the trunk beside the wardrobe, Harry opened the top to begin unloading it, only to be distracted by a pair of arms sliding around his waist. Turning into the embrace, he was surprised by the unusual look on the older man’s face and the mix of emotions filtering through the bond. Severus had shed his robes, and was wearing a soft silk button-down shirt of pearl gray and black cotton trousers. Gathering the young wizard into his arms tightly, he pressed his face into the tangle of wild raven hair, and Harry wrapped his arms around his waist. 

“My childhood was not a happy one. My father was domineering and abusive, and my mother was his primary target. When I became old enough, I encouraged him to take out his aggressions on me, but my mother was already fragile by then, and she died my fifth year at Hogwarts. My father became caught up with the Dark Lord, and gave me to him to be marked on my seventeenth birthday. Despite all of that, I believe I prefer my childhood to what you have suffered at the hands of these muggles. I apologize for believing you were coddled and spoiled; I could not have been further from the truth.” 

“You couldn’t know, Sev. No one knew how I grew up; I was too ashamed to tell anyone. I think Ron and his family, and maybe Hermione, suspected that things weren’t good here, but I never told them anything specific. It was too hard to admit that I slept in a cupboard under the stairs for ten years, when all people could see was the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Severus tilted Harry’s face up and kissed him tenderly. “You don’t ever have to worry about them again, Harry; they no longer have any control over you.”

A soft pop sounded behind them, and Harry turned to find Dobby standing beside a low table in the sitting area, a tray laden with food floating beside him.

“Ah, Dobby, right on time I see.” 

Severus kissed Harry one more time and ushered him over to the table. Suffering though the exuberant embrace of the house-elf, Harry watched as a smile twitched at the corner of the Potions Master’s normally stoic expression. With a snap of his fingers, Dobby unpacked the trunk and disappeared. Perhaps this summer, Privet Drive would be tolerable, he thought as he looked over the Beef Wellington with Yorkshire pudding, treacle tart, and his mate.


	5. The Markings

A timid knock sounded at the door to their room the evening of Harry and Severus’ arrival on Privet Drive. Dobby had just served up Cherries Jubilee and he disappeared with a pop as the Potions Master opened the door with a wave of his hand. Petunia took a step inside and stopped, her eyes growing large as she took in the transformed room with its elegant furnishings, its plush carpeting, and the chafing dish of flaming cherries. Severus had showered and changed into silk sleep trousers and a dressing gown, while Harry lounged in a soft cotton tee shirt and shorts. The Slytherin saw by the change on her face that the woman realized that he had been telling the truth about the wealth he and Harry possessed, and he savored the stunned expression for a moment before speaking.

“Yes?” he asked in the clipped sort of way one might address a wayward servant. 

“You…you have a visitor.”

“Well, show them in, woman!” Severus snapped at her, and Harry struggled to keep from laughing.

Arabella Figg came shuffling into the room, dressed as eccentrically as always, with carpet slippers on her feet and cat food cans clanking in her bag. 

“Severus! Harry! I just heard the grand news and had to come by!” The older woman swooped down to peck the older wizard on the cheek despite his expression of disdain. Harry busied himself with his dessert, but it did not stop the squib from pinching his cheek.

The batty old woman waited until Petunia had backed out of the room before pantomiming the Potions Master casting a silencing spell, which he did. She dropped into the chair beside Harry, and leaned towards him.

“Albus wanted you to know that there were several strange men on the platform at King’s Cross this morning, who he believes attempted to follow you here. They did not pass through the wards in the area around Little Whinging, but he wants to remind you to take every precaution during your stay.”

“Were they anyone that the Order could identify, Arabella?” Severus sat forward.

“No, Kingsley just caught a glimpse of them before they got into a blue auto and trailed the Dursleys’ car from the car park.”

After relaying her message, the squib took her leave; Dobby returned to remove the dishes, and Harry retired to the bath to take his shower. Marveling at the transformation of the miserable little room he’d known for the past few years, Harry luxuriated in a long, hot shower. Toweling off, he looked around for clean boxers before realizing that he had forgotten to bring any with him from the bedroom. A slow smile of anticipation spread across his face, as the young wizard combed his hair and brushed his teeth.

Severus was already stretched out on the four-poster when Harry walked out of the bathroom and approached the bed. Noting that the older man had shed his dressing gown and lay back against the pillows, Harry crawled up on the foot of the bed and continued up the man’s body. A small smile greeted him as he came nose-to-nose with his mate, and he leaned closer to kiss the slightly hooked tip. 

“You seem to have forgotten something, Mister Potter.” The man’s smirk was insufferably smug and knowing, and his hand brushed against the teenager’s erection deliberately.

It took little work to strip his mate, and Harry settled on top of the older man, enjoying the sensation of Severus lightly stroking his back. The young Gryffindor indulged himself, allowing his fingers to stroke and his lips to caress the pale, warm skin. He learned that Severus responded with a moan to having his earlobe sucked, and his Adam’s apple was particularly sensitive to a warm tongue. By the time Harry had made his way down to the man’s chest, they were both breathing heavily. He turned his attention to the flat, dusky pink nipples, tweaking one while suckling the other, making the feelings of pleasure flowing through the bond intensify.

The Potions Master tugged Harry back up and kissed him hungrily, holding him close with one hand on the back of his head and the other cupping his arse. The younger wizard rocked his hips, and was delighted to hear a hiss from his mate. Aligning the two hard and throbbing cocks, Harry continued to thrust against the answering hardness, even as the tingling of their magic combining added to the sensory overload. A long, slender finger traced down his cleft and brushed against his entrance, pushing the teenager over the edge, his explosive climax drawing his partner over the edge as well.

A muttered cleaning charm removed the remnants of their pleasure, then Severus settled his young mate against him. The room was spelled to stay a comfortable temperature, and a soft evening breeze flowed through the open window as he felt Harry slip into sleep. Pressing a kiss to the soft tangle of raven hair, he smiled gently. Who would have thought the young man in his arms would fit so perfectly there? Despite the unfortunate circumstances that had forced their bonding, the rightness of Harry in his arms and his life made it worth the work it had taken. Severus acknowledged that he discovered something new about Harry each day; he had learned that their childhoods were both abysmal, with abusive relatives, and each had a deep desire to be loved. As sleep took him, Severus vowed once again to make sure his mate was happy, no matter what it took.

As dawn appeared on the eastern horizon, Harry lay sleeping in the warm embrace of his mate. A vision hit him with the force of a bludger, slamming into him with unbearable pain. His body bowed as his muscles contracted in agony, and the arms that were wrapped around him clutched at him convulsively. His head split open in pain, and maniacal laughter sounded in his ears as the flesh on his left arm was burned, over and over. Trying to stop the pain, Harry gouged at his arm, tearing at the flesh before he was restrained with whispered words and strong arms.

A hand carded gently through his hair, drawing him towards consciousness. His stomach churned, but the spell held him so he could not turn away. Recognizing the problem, Severus rolled him over on his side at the edge of the bed. With Severus’ soft whisper, Harry felt control sweep back into his body just as he lost his tentative hold on his stomach, and he retched until it was empty. The white-hot pain that still burned in his left forearm surpassed the throbbing in his head, but Severus stopped him when he tried to grab at it.

“Stop it, idiot child, you will damage yourself further!” 

Harry let himself relax against the older wizard, breathing in short, painful pants while the skin on his forearm felt like it was on fire. He could hear the muffled mutter of a summoning spell, and felt Severus press a vial to his lips. He shuddered and gagged as he swallowed the foul tasting liquid, but the pain began to ease immediately, and Harry dropped his head back to his pillow with a groan. The lights came up and gentle hands moved over his left forearm, spreading a cool liquid over deep scratches and angry red, but unMarked, skin. The potion extinguished the fire that burned him.

“He was Marking them, Severus, burning the Dark Mark into their skins!” Harry told his mate as the cool fingers stroked over his arm, his breath hitching on a half sob.

“Could you see who the Dark Lord was Marking?” 

“Most of them were teenagers. I recognized Adrian Pucey, Marcus Flint, and…” Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper, “and Percy Weasley.”

Finishing his treatment of Harry’s arm, Severus slid back up on the bed and tugged the young man into an embrace, settling him back on his chest. Wrapping an arm around the slender back, he brought his hand up to card through the soft raven hair in the gesture Severus had quickly learned calmed his mate. Harry accepted the comfort, and began to relate the details of his vision.

“It was a large gathering in the clearing of a wooded area, with a big bonfire in the center. There were a lot of kids there, Severus; all of the Slytherins who left Hogwarts before the Leaving Feast were present, along with a couple of Ravenclaw seventh years that I recognized. They Marked the kids who had just graduated, but Lucius Malfoy argued against marking those who were still students. He told Voldemort that even if you had been a traitor, you were right, that Dumbledore would expel any Marked student from Hogwarts.”

“I am sure the Dark Lord appreciated his opinion,” Severus said dryly.

“Enough to earn Malfoy several rounds of the Cruciatus, especially when he was reminded that Draco wasn’t there.”

Severus winced at that, knowing full well what the evil bastard expected of his followers, including the sacrifice of their children if necessary. “I would think that Draco’s name has been added to the list that includes ours.”

“Yes, it did sound that way,” Harry replied, leaning into the hand stroking his hair. “What do we tell the Weasleys?”

This was not a conversation Severus wanted to begin when Harry was still trembling from the aftermath of the vision he had suffered. He knew the first thing they needed to do was get word to Albus.

“ _Accio_ parchment and quill,” the older wizard muttered. “I believe that should be left to the Headmaster to decide.”

Catching the items that flew towards them, Severus shifted them so that he was sitting up against the headboard of the bed, his mate nestled in the crook of his left arm. He took his book from the bedside table, laid the parchment on it, and began writing. With Harry’s help, he quickly described the meeting the teenager had seen, the names of those present, and who was Marked. When they finished, he summoned Dobby for an instant delivery.   
“Is Master Harry being alright, sir?” Dobby asked as soon as he appeared at the side of the bed, long fingers reaching out to touch Harry’s shoulder lightly.

Harry managed a smile for the diminutive creature, touched by his affection. “I will be fine, Dobby, really. I just had one of my bad dreams.”

Severus folded the parchment and handed it to the house-elf. “We would appreciate it if you took this to Professor Dumbledore immediately, Dobby.”

The great green eyes looked at him solemnly. “Yes, Master Severus,” and he was gone with a pop.

It was still very early, but Severus knew by now that Harry would be unable to get back to sleep after a vision. Instead, he shooed the younger wizard out of bed, straightened the bedclothes, and cast a cleaning charm on the puddle of sick. Directing Harry into the sitting area, Severus levitated the furniture out of the way, and conjured a soft mat. Harry understood perfectly, the mat was for the meditation and yoga workout routine the Slytherin had taught him at the beginning of sixth year. It was the meditation practice that had finally taught Harry how to clear his mind and strengthen his mental skills to the point that he was finally able to block Voldemort’s invasions. In teaching him, his mentor has also included strength-building martial arts exercises, which kept Severus’ body strong and toned. Harry had continued the exercises every day until the day they had been captured. 

When Dobby returned an hour later with breakfast and a note from the Headmaster, Harry had completed his routine, showered, and dressed in a pair of over-large jeans. Severus was just coming out of the bathroom when Dobby finished hugging Harry and handed the parchment to the Potions Master. With murmured thanks, Severus sat down to eat as he read the missive. Harry dug into his eggs and bangers, and reached for a piece of toast, watching his mate’s face as he chewed. Looking up, the obsidian eyes met the emerald, and the older wizard set the parchment on the table where Harry could read it.  
“It appears that Albus is as concerned as we are about what you saw, but doesn’t want Arthur and Molly told yet.”

“Won’t that just make it worse for them when they find out, Severus?”

The older man nodded his head as he reached for a piece of toast. “It is likely, but you must look past the feeling of remorse for what his parents will suffer at the betrayal of their son, and look at whether Percy took the Mark of his own volition, in which case he may be coerced into spying on his boss. Or, it is possible that Cornelius Fudge is also a Death Eater and Percy took the Mark because he was persuaded to by the Minister, which then leads us to wonder how many of the other top staffers at the Ministry of Magic are actually loyal to the Dark Lord.”

Harry looked at him, horrified. “I was only thinking about the Weasleys.”

“As you should, Harry. Your concern and affection for the Weasleys are admirable, but the ramifications stretch far beyond the family. I am afraid we must honor the Headmaster’s wishes.”

Harry readily agreed, turning his attention to his breakfast. Finishing in a comfortable silence, Harry moved to gather what he needed to start on his summer assignments, when Severus stopped him.

“If you are up to it, Albus has agreed to let us go to Diagon Alley for an hour this morning. He knows that you need proper clothing and school supplies, but thinks any longer time frame would be detrimental to our safety.”

Harry readily agreed and moved to the wardrobe, where his bag of galleons was stored. The parchment the Headmaster had sent was the portkey, and it activated at once with the password from Severus. Materializing behind the Leaking Cauldron, they looked around quickly to make sure no one had seen them, then moved to the brick wall that marked the entrance to the Alley. The Potions Master insisted that Harry carry the parchment, which would automatically portkey him back to Privet Drive at the end of the hour. Delighted with the surprise trip, Harry made sure his fringe was covering his scar, and followed a half step behind his mate as they moved through the surprisingly crowded alleyway.

The whirlwind trip through the shops lining Diagon Alley was just what Harry needed to take his mind off his early morning vision. Severus Snape turned out to be a born shopper, bargaining ruthlessly as they swept in and out of the apothecary, Flourish and Blotts, Glad Rags Wizard Wear, and Madame Malkin’s. Just before the hour was up, Severus ushered Harry into Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, where both twins came out from around the counter to greet him enthusiastically. 

“Harry! Mate, it is good to see you! We have been waiting-”

“-to show you our premises! Come, look-”

“-at all the new things we have developed!”

Fred, or was it George, glanced up at Severus and did a double-take. “Professor Snape, what a delight-”

“-to see you again!”

“We trust things are well with both of you?”

Harry was getting a headache trying to keep up with the two redheads, and held up his hand. “Our portkey is about to activate, guys, I was just wondering if you had any Chocolate Frogs I could buy?”

“You are our partner, Harry!” said George as he shoved a bag into his hands. 

“Your money is no good here, mate!”

Harry could feel the portkey heat in warning against his hip, and Harry shoved his hand into his pocket retrieve it, juggling packages and bags. Pulling it out, he extended it towards Severus, who stepped to stand beside his mate, eyeing the Weasley twins as he would a smoking cauldron. It was a bewildered man who arrived back in the tasteful room he had created on the house on Privet Drive, wondering at the young entrepreneur at his side, and how many other facets he hid from the world. Harry just grinned at him, and started to explain, relieved that Percy had not been mentioned by either of the twins.

After putting away their purchases, Harry changed into a new pair of shorts and got to work on his Transfiguration essay. Severus, still a little dazed at the extent of Harry’s involvement with the Weasley twins and their enterprises, sat reading through an article on a breakthrough improvement in making invisibility potions. The morning grew warm as it approached noon, and Dobby brought a light lunch of salad and sandwiches, with fresh strawberries and cream to finish. 

They lingered over the strawberries, and Harry had just finished his when his head exploded in pain. Severus was at his side in an instant, holding him until the pain abated. Harry drew a deep breath, thankful it was just Voldemort’s anger this time instead of a vision. He drank down the vial of pain-relieving potion without protest before leaning into his mate.

“He’s really angry because someone saw us in Diagon Alley this morning, but didn’t do anything about it until we were gone.”


	6. The Invitation

The ensuing days settled into a pattern for the two wizards, with the mornings devoted to physical training in the backyard of the Dursley residence, and the heat of the afternoon was spent in the cool suite of rooms upstairs. Severus converted a corner of the sitting room into a small potions lab, using it to tutor Harry in proper potion-making and to brew a customized pain potion for when his scar flared. Under the direction of his bonded mate, Harry had completed all his summer assignments in the first ten days of their stay, much to the younger wizard’s disgust.

One morning two weeks into the holidays, Severus transfigured the backyard into a swimming area that looked like a shallow pond. It was an unusually warm July day, and Harry, clad in swim trunks, jumped in enthusiastically, ignoring his aunt’s gasp when she stepped out the back door. The older wizard pulled off the dressing gown he wore over tight Speedo trunks and dove into the water smoothly. Thrashing along in an imitation of the swimming lessons he had watched Dudley take one summer, Harry moved himself through the water with a choppy motion. A hand curled around his ankle and pulled him under.

Sputtering, Harry surfaced, coughing and laughing when Severus emerged from the water beside him. Slipping his arm around the teenager’s waist, the older man pulled the slender body against his and held him tightly for a heartbeat. Pressing a kiss to the side of Harry’s head, he slowly turned the teenager around and began to instruct him on how to swim. With just a few tries, Harry was swimming strongly beside his mate from one end of the pond to the other. They swam a few leisurely laps, Harry imitating the stroke the Slytherin was using, enjoying the unique feeling of gliding through the water. 

The older wizard had Harry puzzled. Since the morning of his vision, Severus had been quietly affectionate and unfailingly patient, but physically remote. Although he always awoke wrapped in Severus’ arms, the man’s mere presence keeping the majority of his nightmares at bay, Severus seemed reluctant to touch him when they were both awake and aware. At first he had thought he had done something wrong, something to anger his mate, but reaching through the bond, Harry had sensed deep affection and a strong attraction from the older wizard, which puzzled him even more. Thinking back over their recent conversations, he kept coming back to their discussion at Hogwarts about his lack of experience, then later the older man’s realization about his deprived childhood, and Harry had to wonder if the Slytherin was letting him set the pace of their relationship. 

From the shallows, the piercing onyx eyes followed his young mate’s moves hungrily, watching as the lean body cut through the water towards him. Severus wondered how much longer he was going to be able to keep his hands to himself. The natural attraction between the two was strong enough without the pull of the deep bond they had developed. The sheer beauty of the young man, the glowing emerald eyes, the wild raven hair, and his heart-breaking smile, were breathtaking to Severus,; Severus knew he would do anything for one of those brilliant smiles. The fact that he had fallen in love had hit the Potions Master the morning after Harry’s last vision, when they had gone to Diagon Alley; watching the young man’s unbridled enthusiasm for something as simple as shopping had been both enlightening and endearing. The fact was that he had fallen for a student, one who was almost twenty years his junior, one who had been forced to bond with him when barely of consenting age, and one still trying to adjust to their new circumstances. If he could just be patient, Severus reasoned, maybe Harry could learn to love him in return.

Both men were in a thoughtful mood that afternoon as Harry helped prepare the ingredients for the two cauldrons of the Wolfsbane Severus set up to brew for Remus Lupin. Harry knew that Remus was acting as an agent between the werewolf packs and the Order of the Phoenix for the Headmaster, and Severus was brewing extra potion as a good faith gift. As he chopped and diced with an assurance he had not had a month ago, Harry found that it had a calming effect; the activity required his attention, but did not require deep thought. His eyes followed the graceful motions of the older wizard as he performed an elegant dance between the two simmering cauldrons, simultaneously stirring in the required ingredients. 

Finishing his part in the potions, Harry cleaned the small work area without bothering the Potions Master and left to shower. Clean and clad in a pair of soft cotton shorts, Harry sank down on to the plush carpet in front of Severus’ chair, and opened the muggle book Hermione had given him, a children’s book about a girl named Alice and a looking glass that he’d never had the opportunity to read. Severus completed the potion and left the cauldrons to simmer overnight, so that the Wolfsbane would be ready for Remus to pick-up the next afternoon. Looking up, the young Gryffindor flashed the older man a smile as he moved through the suite towards the bathroom.

Feeling refreshed and following Harry’s example, Severus pulled on only a pair of cotton shorts and walked back to the sitting room to sit in the comfortable chair. Harry still sat reading, and he absently leaned forward so the Severus could sit down before leaning back between the Potion Master’s legs. Feeling Severus settle into the leather chair with a tired sigh, Harry set his book on the floor and picked up the long, slender foot that rested next to him. Tucking it into his lap, Harry began to knead the ball of the foot with strong, gentle fingers. Looking back over his shoulder, he smirked as he saw Severus had slumped back against the back of the chair, his head thrown back. The look of pure pleasure on the man’s face spurred Harry on, so he massaged and rubbed first one foot and then the other. 

A feeling of contentment joined the pleasure that flowed through the link, making Harry smile. It wasn’t often he felt like he’d done something right, especially with this man, and he enjoyed this success. Continuing his massage, Harry started up the calf of one leg, fingers gently kneading the lean muscle, and was rewarded with a groan. As he continued his ministrations, a wicked idea took root in his mind, and he gleefully plotted as he switched to the other calf. Something, Harry hoped, that might shake his mate out of his self-imposed celibacy.

Severus thought he might melt from the sheer enjoyment of having the blunt fingers and slightly callused hands rubbing away the tension in his muscles. No one had ever done this for him; no one had ever cared enough to want to. Unable to stop himself, he lifted one hand to spear into the soft mass of tousled hair. His fingers stroked of their own accord as the tingles of magic that radiated from the hand massaging his leg sent jolts of electricity to his rapidly hardening cock. The half erection he normally sported whenever the younger man was near him was becoming achingly hard.

Feeling the change in mood through the bond, Harry felt his cock twitch in appreciation, and he smirked. Leaning into the hand that had begun to card through his hair, he continued to knead the leg in his hands. Rising to his knees and dislodging the stroking hand, Harry turned and knelt between his mate’s legs, eyeing the erection tenting the front of Severus’ shorts. Leaning back, he moved the small table out of the way and tugged on the hand now resting on the older man’s thigh.

“Come down here, Sev.”

The Slytherin slid onto the soft carpet, and stretched his limbs sensually. Harry straddled the man’s waist, facing his feet, and began to knead the large muscle of one thigh. Careful to settle his weight so that the hard cock beneath him settled comfortably between his arse cheeks, Harry moved back and forth as he rubbed, eliciting another groan from behind him, and he noticed the hands fisted into the carpet on either side of him. Switching to the other thigh, he massaged it to the juncture of Severus’ legs. 

Moving so that he sat astride his mate’s flat abdomen, his weight balanced on his knees, Harry gently peeled off the shorts, and was delighted to find no pants beneath them. Fingers still gently kneading the flesh of both inner thighs, Harry did what he’d wanted to for the past several weeks; leaning down, he sucked the leaking tip of Severus cock into his mouth. The gasp from behind him urged him on, and Harry swirled his tongue around the blunt head, trying to take in as much as he could, fingers now rubbing the heavy sac and balls. Lost in his exploring of the hard length with his lips and tongue, Harry was surprised when he felt hands close on his bare hips, urging him backwards. Idly wondering where his shorts went, Harry scooted back obediently, never stopping his mouth’s movement up and down the erect shaft. 

Wet heat suddenly surrounded Harry’s cock, and his legs almost gave out when he felt Severus suck his length into his mouth. The firm grasp on his hips and the feeling of being sucked deep into the inviting warmth, along with the humming of their bond, distracted Harry, but the younger man tried to gather his wits together enough to follow Severus’ example. Boldly, he wet the tip of his thumb in the saliva coating the penis sliding in and out of his mouth and brought it down to ghost across the puckered entrance. His partner’s hips bucked wildly, and Harry felt the cock in his mouth swell before Severus came, filling his mouth, triggering his own release. Lapping his mate clean, Harry he slumped bonelessly to the side of the warm body, only to be hauled up against a firm chest and kissed senseless. 

Carding his fingers through the silken mass of hair, with Harry sprawled against his chest, Severus let a contented sigh escape. “What was that all about, my brat?”

Sleepy green eyes peered up at him, and a sated smile fluttered on Harry’s lips. “I decided it was my turn to touch you, since you didn’t seem to be in any hurry to touch me.”

The long, slender fingers threaded into the hair at the back of Harry’s head, holding it gently but firmly, the onyx eyes steady. “You have had so little choice in your life, Harry; I was simply attempting to give you some.”

The emerald eyes held his steady for a heartbeat before one of the brilliant smiles Severus had come to hold dear erupted across the younger man’s face. 

“Thank you, Severus.”

 

A small gray blur woke them from a sound sleep as it swooped in through the open window, twittering madly and bouncing from wall to wall.

“Bloody hell, what is that infernal racket?” the Potions Master exclaimed as Harry plucked it out of the air like a wayward snitch.

“Pig!” He cried, trying to calm the agitated little owl.

Taking the scroll of parchment off the owl’s leg was not an easy task, as the excited fowl hopped every time Harry tried to retrieve it. Finally, he gingerly held the bird with both hands as Severus removed the scroll and unrolled it. Letting Pigwidgeon go, he flew up to drink from Hedwig’s water dish. The snowy-white owl regarded the little intruder with disdain for a moment before closing her amber eyes again.

“It is from Molly Weasley, inviting us to a picnic this afternoon at the Burrow,” the older wizard relayed, frowning. “Some sort of a surprise, she writes, for Arthur.”

A twinge of uneasiness ran through Harry at the invitation, and he met the obsidian eyes of his partner with a question in his own. He could see suspicion in their depths as well, and an unsettling feeling filtering through the bond.

“Something isn’t right, Severus, this just doesn’t sound like Missus Weasley.”

Nodding, the Slytherin re-examined the note. The mere thought of being surrounded by the proverbial gaggle of redheaded Weasley prodigy for any length of time was enough to send him fleeing straight back to his dungeons. The note was short, addressed to both of them, and as best as he could determine, in Molly’s handwriting, but something was odd about the stiff, formal wording of the missive. An impromptu gathering in the middle of the week, especially in light of the current state of affairs, seemed very odd.

“I thought the Weasleys were staying at Grimmauld Place,” Harry said, studying the note in Severus’ hand.

“To my knowledge, they are,” the older man said thoughtfully, handing the scrap of parchment to his mate.

Harry took it, and tilted his face up for a kiss. His unspoken request was granted, then his mate rose; his eyes followed the other man’s naked form as he walked toward the bathroom, admiring the graceful movement and tight arse before reading the note over. Everything looked as it should, but Harry just could not shake the feeling that something was not right. Maybe it was Mister Weasleys’ birthday or something, he thought, as he straightened the bedding.

By the time Harry had showered and dressed after their morning workout, Severus was already sipping tea at the small table in the sitting room. A breakfast tray sat waiting, and Harry joined his bonded, eating his eggs and bangers with gusto.

“I sent the invitation back to Hogwarts with Dobby. The Headmaster will be able to determine whether it was safe enough for us to attend.”

Harry nodded as he sipped his tea. “You really don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”

“And face the wrath of Molly Weasley? I think not, Mister Potter!”

Another of those brilliant smiles was his reward, and Severus allowed his lips to twitch into a curve momentarily. The thought had already occurred to him that this might be a means to separate the two of them for some reason. He kept the thought to himself, not wanting to unduly inflame the younger man’s suspicions. He watched as Harry ate his way through eggs, sausages, and fruit, delighted that a steady diet had filled the teenager out a bit. The golden tan acquired during their workouts defined a layer of wiry muscle, set off the emerald green eyes, and had brought out auburn highlights in the wild mass of dark hair.

A ball of flame burst into existence a fraction of a second before a golden and scarlet Phoenix appeared, a scroll of parchment clasped tightly in his talons.

“Fawkes!” Harry exclaimed, delighted as always to see the magical creature.

The Phoenix dropped the scroll in front of the Potions Master and landed gently on the Gryffindor’s shoulder. Smiling, Harry petted the bird’s warm scarlet feathers, scratching under one wing, and Fawkes preened, rubbing his head against the teenager’s temple. With a burst of song, the bird nipped at Harry’s ear, then rose into the air and disappeared in another burst of flame.

“Albus says he was meeting with Arthur when Dobby arrived, and has taken the step of telling him of Percy’s taking the Mark. Albus wants us to attend the picnic this afternoon, but wants us to arrive separately; you will go first, as if you are alone. I will Apparate in several minutes later, as will Arthur, and Albus will join us last. If it is some type of trap, then Molly and the two youngest Weasleys are also in danger.”

The emerald eyes were hard. “That tells me that neither Mister Weasley nor Professor Dumbledore knew anything about a picnic.”

“It would appear not. While this may indeed be a treat of some sort for Arthur, Molly knows better than to invite us while we are here; she knows the importance of you remaining here.”

Severus insisted they dress carefully, close-fitting muggle jeans, sturdy boots, and long-sleeved button-up shirts over their tee shirts, so they could hide the wand holsters on their forearms. The pair walked to Arabella Figg’s house and used her fireplace to floo to the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry would floo directly on to the Burrow. The older wizard was becoming more apprehensive with each passing moment, and heedless of the prying eyes around them, gathered Harry into a tight embrace. 

“Take no chances, Harry. If there is anything amiss, Apparate directly to Grimmauld Place. I will come for you there if we are separated.”

“Alright, Severus, but promise me you will be careful?”

“Yes, my brat, I will be careful.”

The floo system deposited Harry into the kitchen fireplace of the rambling house that had always seemed so warm and inviting to him. The kitchen seemed empty, but his wand was already in his hand as the teenager dropped into a crouch, pivoting slowly. Better to be on his guard. The sound of laughter from outside caught his attention, and he moved cautiously toward the back door. A table sat under the tree in the backyard, in the same place it had the summer before his fourth year when he’d stayed at the Burrow. Ginny was setting plates on the table as Ron levitated chairs into place from Mister Weasley’s shed. Having turned seventeen that spring, Ron was allowed to do magic anytime, as was Hermione, who had come of age last September. Both had teased Harry unmercifully about being the youngest of the trio.

Stepping out the door, Harry slipped his wand back into its holster and walked over to where Ginny was leaning on the table. With a squeal, the redhead threw herself into his arms, kissing him soundly. The two had shared a special relationship since the horrors of the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry loved her like a sister. Ron turned around as his sister yelled and made his way over.

“Harry! I am glad to see you alive and in one piece, mate! I was never too sure of what Snape might…Ow!”

Ginny smacked the tall, gangly teenager on the back of the head the way his absent girlfriend did whenever he said something stupid, and Ron glared.

“I don’t care what Hermione told you, Gin, don’t do that!” The youngest Weasley male glared at her, rubbing the back of his head, as she and Harry laughed.

“Oh, Harry dear, I am so glad to see you! Help Ron with the chairs, please, there’s a good lad.”

Harry stared in astonishment at the older woman. His self-appointed surrogate mother she stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. She wore no apron over her lightweight summer robes, and made no move to hug him. The teenager exchanged glances with Ginny. With an imperceptible shake of her head, she moved back towards the table, leaning over it as if to show Harry something.

“Mom’s been acting really odd the last couple of days, Harry, and I am starting to worry,” Ginny said quietly. “Ron and I don’t know what to think, but we think it has something to do with Percy.”

Ron joined them, lugging two more chairs to the table by hand. “We were really surprised when she told us this morning that you and Snape were coming to the Burrow for a picnic. You know we haven’t been here since that Death Eater attack on Ottery-St. Catchpole last summer!”

“Harry, where is Professor Snape? We thought he would be with you.”

“He’s coming…”

“Harry Potter!” A familiar voice snarled his name, and Harry turned back toward the kitchen door. “Savior of the wizarding world, indeed!”

“Percy? You bloody git, how dare you…”

“ _Stupefy!_ ” A careless wave of the wand in Percy’s hand dropped Ron to the ground.

Percy Weasley had not changed in the year since Harry had seen him in the headmaster’s office when Dolores Umbridge had discovered the DA; his black robes were immaculate and he had not a hair out of place. The wand held tightly in his hand and unnatural gleam in the young man’s eye were the only differences, and a cold chill ran down Harry’s spine. With a flick of his hand, Harry sent Ginny a signal; she dove under the table, away from where Ron lay unconscious from his brother’s curse. Harry circled the table slowly, watching Percy carefully while trying to block Ron’s prone form.

“Looks like you’ve learned a few Unforgivables, Percy.” As he spoke, Harry had surreptitiously drawn his wand, and held it hidden along the side of his leg. “Who taught you those, I wonder? Surely not that idiot Fudge, he doesn’t have the intestinal fortitude to do that! That toad Umbridge, maybe? Merlin knows she is vile enough!” Harry heard the crack of Apparation somewhere nearby, followed by several more.

“Or was it the snake-faced bastard himself, Perce? You seem too lowly a minion for that type of instruction.”

“ _Crucio!_ ” Percy screamed. Harry’s body exploded with pain, but he managed to stay on his feet, and forced his wand up.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” 

Percy was flung backwards against the wall of the house as his wand flew towards Harry. He slumped to the ground, stunned by the impact. Taking a deep breath, Harry moved to check on Ron, and Ginny crawled out from under the table. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of shouting and feet pounding towards them. The hair on the back of his head tingled, and Harry glanced up just in time to see purple spell light leave Molly Weasley’s wand and fly at Ginny and Ron. Without thought, he threw himself between his friends and the curse, just as Harry heard his name screamed, and everything went black.


	7. Farewell to Privet Drive

Severus Snape came around the corner of the rambling house just as Molly Weasley cast a powerful Dark curse used to cause a slow and painful death. As if in slow motion, he watched with dread as his young mate threw himself at his friends, knocking them both out of the way as the jet of purple spell-light clipped Harry’s left shoulder and slammed him to the ground. The ex-Death Eater had his wand in his hand, with Molly frozen and magically bound before he ever realized he’d cast the spells. Albus moved off to his left, securing Percy Weasley and turning his wand on several young Death Eaters who had Apparated near the side of the shed. Arthur Weasley ran to where his children, who had thrown themselves over the young Gryffindor’s prone form. Urging them to stay down, he stood protectively over Harry. Ignoring his instructions, his son and daughter took up low defensive positions on either side.

It took several moments of intense dueling before all four Death Eaters were bound and unconscious on the ground, and several Aurors had finally Apparated in to collect them. It was an ashen Arthur Weasley who directed that his third son also be taken into custody. Severus moved towards Harry, while Arthur and Albus approached the Weasley matriarch. Gently rolling the teenager over with the help of the youngest Weasley, with Ron still standing guard over them, the Potions Master was relieved to feel a steady heartbeat, indicating that the crushing pain he felt through their bond was not a sign of Harry’s death. Gathering Harry into his arms, he moved toward where the Headmaster stood with Arthur, passing his wand over Molly.

“Professor Snape!” Ginny jogged to keep up, her eyes on her mother. “I don’t know the name of the spell that was used, but it was the same one that hit Hermione in the Department of Mysteries a year ago!”

“A spell designed to crush one from the inside out, starting with the lungs,” the older wizard ground out between clenched teeth as they approached the others. “Albus! I need to get Harry to the hospital wing!” 

Picking up a piece of broken plate from the ground, Albus Dumbledore tapped it with his wand. “ _Portus!_ I will be there shortly, Severus.”

With a nod, the Potions Master took the shard of china and immediately felt the tug of the portkey. It deposited them near the doors of the hospital wing, and he strode to the closest bed with his burden, depositing the teenager gently as he called for the medi-witch. The Weasley children arrived immediately after him, both pale-faced and shaking.

“Severus!” The older witch came bustling out of her office. “What are you…oh no, not Harry again!”

“He took a glancing hit from the Crusio Totalus curse, which struck him in the front portion of the left shoulder!” the tall wizard explained. His own shoulder burned with intense pain, and his breath hitched in his chest. 

“Tell me where exactly, Severus!” 

The medi-witch instructed him, waving him into the bed beside Harry. She knew better than anyone the depth of the bond the two shared, and knew the Potions Master could pinpoint immediately where she needed to concentrate her healing abilities. Ignoring the other activity in the room, and the two young Gryffindors who stood silently beside the bed, Severus began to describe what he was feeling through the bond. As he spoke, Madame Pomfrey began to incant healing charms and counter-curses, with a quiet word, she sent Ginny running to her potions storage cabinet. A vial of translucent blue potion was pushed into Severus’ hand, and Poppy poured the same down Harry’s throat, his head braced against Severus’ shoulder.

As both of their breathing evened, Severus shifted the teenager so that he rested comfortably in a semi-reclining position, his back against the older wizard’s chest. Severus was propped up on a wedge of pillows, his breathing easy now, and the pain in his shoulder down to a steady ache. Albus Dumbledore materialized next to the bed, and glancing over, he could see Molly Weasley being laid in the next bed by her husband. Squashing a quiver of anger at the sight of the witch who had cursed his mate, Severus knew there had to be an explanation. Molly Weasley would never have hurt her own children or Harry, whom she considered an adopted son. 

“She was placed under the Imperius Curse by Percy, Severus, who has apparently been in contact with her for the past week. He said he wanted to reconcile with the family, and Molly so wanted to believe him that she disregarded everything else, including the fact that the security of the Burrow had been breeched.”

Albus Dumbledore spoke quietly, his blue eyes meeting the onyx ones of the man he loved like a son. They both watched as Poppy moved to the next bed, ushering the children over to chairs as Arthur sat on the side of the now weeping woman’s bed. The medi-witch crossed the room to her office before coming back with several vials in her hand. Stopping at Molly’s bed, she handed what looked to be a calming potion to Arthur, and then turned to Severus and Harry. 

“How is the pain, Severus?”

“Manageable, Poppy, thank you.” 

She nodded and set the vial of pain-relieving potion on the bedside table before moving back towards the Weasleys. The Headmaster seated himself in a chair beside Severus, watching as the Potions Master adjusted the younger wizard more comfortable in his arms. Pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple, he watched as the emerald eyes fluttered open and Harry groaned.

“Sev’rus? Everyone okay?”

“Everyone is fine, love, except you,” Severus tightened his grip fractionally. “We will be working on casting shielding charms around others in the near future, brat, so you don’t feel the need to dive in front of every hex that is thrown.”

Harry had the audacity to smile at the stern reprimand, and Severus sighed, capturing his lips in swift kiss. Feeling the steady throb of pain in the younger man’s shoulder, the Potions Master reached for the pain potion. The injured wizard swallowed it without question, shifting a little as he put his weight on his right side, leaning heavily on the Slytherin.

“Is Missus Weasley all right, Professor? I think Percy had her under the Imperius by the way she acted when she saw me.” 

The Headmaster nodded. “Yes, she will be fine, Harry, although she is quite upset by what happened.”

As if on cue, Arthur Weasley appeared beside the bed, an arm around his still sobbing wife. Ron, still pale with apprehension and pain from the injury he had sustained, supported the witch from the other side. Dumbledore shifted aside, and Severus tightened his embrace but remained silent, his dark eyes watching the gathered redheads. 

“Molly wanted to see for herself that you were going to be all right, Harry, and to thank you,” Arthur said over Molly’s renewed sobs. 

It took all of the Weasleys’ combined efforts to convince Molly that Harry was going to be fine, and settle her back into bed, where she was given a dose of Dreamless Sleep. Remus Lupin arrived in the hospital wing shortly after that, having been summoned by Madame Pomfrey to help Severus transport Harry back to Privet Drive. A sleeping draught in his pocket, the Potions Master settled his mate into their bed, despite the younger man’s protests. With a glare worthy of his lover, Harry watched the two wizards decant the Wolfsbane Potion into small spelled cauldrons for Remus to deliver to the werewolf pack with whom he was negotiating.

Knowing that they had missed lunch, but that Harry would not have much of an appetite after the various potions and pain he was still feeling, Severus asked Dobby for the younger man’s favorites. Using the older wizard’s thigh as a pillow, the teenager slept through the remainder of the afternoon, waking only for a bit of Shepard’s pie and another vial of pain potion. Settling in for the night, Severus was glad that the pain in his shoulder was a dull ache, and let out a sigh of relief as he tucked his mate into his side. Bloody Gryffindor, he thought, stroking the soft messy hair, amazed again at the depth of his feelings for the younger man.

 

The remaining weeks at Privet Drive continued much as the first two weeks had, with physical conditioning in the mornings and the study of various spells and curses in the afternoons. Severus explained the theory and wand motions, and then Harry mimicked the appropriate action without actually using magic. There were no lasting effects from the curse Harry had been struck with at the Burrow, and he was back to top form within a week. The pair both felt they had accomplished much in the month they had been in residence at Privet Drive, not the least had been turning each of the Dursleys green with jealousy as they watched the quiet display of love and wealth. Petunia, in particular, had been in a position to watch the daily training sessions, and the deep, abiding love the two had developed and displayed for each other, which caused her to sigh with envy.

Harry suffered through several episodes of pain in his scar that sent him to his knees. Each of them was sparked by extreme emotions on the part of the evil wizard, the first being the night after the ill-fated attack at the Burrow, when Voldemort had learned of Percy Weasley’s actions. It appeared that Percy had overstepped his bounds, having orchestrated the attack on his family of his own accord, as a way to draw Harry out of Privet Drive. He had believed this would move him into Voldemort’s inner circle, in addition to earning him a promotion at the Ministry of Magic. Amelia Bones had called for an investigation into Percy’s actions, blaming Cornelius Fudge. In his blustering way, the Minister of Magic had created more of a furor by categorically denying that Percy was a Death Eater. 

The morning of the thirtieth had brought a painful attack of glee through his scar, just as Harry was showering after their morning workout. Severus was packing Harry’s truck when the pain hit him, and he staggered back into the bathroom to find the younger man on his knees under the rapidly cooling water. Scooping his mate up, the Potions Master cast a drying charm on both of them before laying Harry on the bed and holding him until the pain had abated. Over the course of the past month, Severus had learned how each of the different manifestations of the connection with Voldemort affected Harry, and how to deal with them. He could tell at the onset now what each attack would mean in terms of pain for the young Gryffindor. On this occasion, Severus retrieved a vial of analgesic potion; he would take one-third of the vial the reflected pain he felt, and the rest was usually sufficient for Harry’s residual pain.

“Did you get any impression as to what the Dark Lord was so happy about, love?” Severus asked as Harry drank down the potion.

“No, nothing that I could grasp.” The teenager handed the empty vial back, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

As he dressed, the pain in his head receded to a mild throbbing, Harry looked around the magically enhanced room with a smile. This was the last morning he would ever have to wake up in this house, and he was not going to let anyone spoil this happy event. So many memories were wrapped up in this house, most of them filled with misery and unhappiness. The past weeks there with Severus had been the happiest the young man had experienced, and he was glad now that they had been forced to spend this time at his relatives, so that he had some good memories connected to Privet Drive. 

Feeling the obsidian eyes following his movements around the room as he made sure he had all his belongings collected, the young wizard glanced up with a smile. No words were necessary, the Slytherin knew that his mate wanted nothing more than to leave the oppressive house. With a smirk, he flicked his wand and the rooms returned to the original small, dark bedroom Harry had lived in since his original Hogwarts letter had arrived, addressed to him at the ‘Cupboard under the Stairs’. Dobby popped in, threw his arms around Harry’s knees in greeting, and chattered for a moment before leaving with the packed trunk. Two small black bags sat by the door waiting for them.

“Are you ready to leave, Harry?”

Severus moved to stand in front of the young man, and Harry went willingly into his arms. Leaning into the warmth and comfort he had become used to, Harry smiled into the older man’s neck. The past month of hard training and good food had added a layer of well-defined muscle and several inches of height to the teenager’s stature, and Severus had only to tilt his head, instead of leaning down, to capture the warm lips. As he wrapped his arms around his mate’s lean waist, Harry enthusiastically joined in the deep kiss. 

“Yes, I’m ready.”

The pair made their way down the stairs, bags slung over their shoulders, to be met by resounding silence at the foot of the stairs. Harry had spent many hours over the years as the target of their displeasure rehearsing a speech in which he would tell his boorish relatives exactly what he thought of each of them, and he was mildly disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to deliver it. It was probably better this way, he thought, feeling an echoing disappointment through the bond; only then did he realize that Severus had planned few hexes on their way out. 

With a grin, Harry took the Slytherin’s hand and walked out the front door without a backward glance. Walking to the end of the protective fields around the house, he turned into his mate’s arms and closed his eyes. Severus drew on both their magical power to Apparate them away from the nondescript muggle neighborhood, neither of them seeing the batty old squib who watched them from the corner of Wisteria Walk, a kind smile on her lips, Mister Tibbs at her feet.

Their first stop was a whirlwind shopping trip through Diagon Alley, hitting the Apothecary, Madame Malkin's, and the Weasley twins’ premises. Harry spent an hour in the heavily warded backroom of the Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes being entertained by the twins demonstrating their latest inventions, while Severus left to attend to business. Fred caught him up on all the family news, starting with his mum and how she was doing. George piped up with news of Ginny and her visit from boyfriend Draco Malfoy. It seemed that Draco had spent the first weeks of summer with his parents, before seeking sanctuary with the Order. The twins were of the opinion that he was still a git, even if he wasn’t a Death Eater.

Severus made his way to the small family-run jewelry store at the end of Diagon Alley. He knew Harry would be safe with the Weasley twins while he picked up the present the elderly wizard had crafted to his specifications. His mate had told him about his birthdays, and how he always waited until midnight and celebrated alone. This year was going to be a bit different, the Slytherin had decided, and he was putting his plans into action. Keeping an eye on his surroundings, the dark haired man made two other stops before returning to the Weasleys shop. 

When Severus returned, Harry stepped into his outstretched arms without hesitation, despite the sniggering from the twins. The older wizard Apparated them into a large, light-filled room with cream-colored walls, cherry wood furniture, large windows, and a large fireplace. Turning around, the teenager found himself in an elegant sitting room overlooking a small, formal garden complete with a cherub fountain. He looked questioningly at the taller man.

“This is the London town house left to me by my mother. It has been in her family for well over one hundred years, back to the days when one of her relatives served as a lady-in-waiting to a queen. My father never knew about it, she had it deeded directly to me upon her death.”

It was small by royal standards, three floors, with only four bedrooms with bathrooms, kitchen, library, workout room, potions laboratory, sitting room, dining room, and ladies’ parlor. The servants quarters attached to the kitchen had been converted to storerooms and living quarters for the three house-elves that maintained the property. The house was furnished in solid wood antiques and hand woven Persian rugs over polished wooden floors. With its large airy windows and open space, it was comfortable without being ostentatious. Severus escorted the teen up to the top floor, where they explored elegant master bedroom, with its large four-poster bed draped in royal blue and cream, the attached sitting room with fireplace and large bathroom. 

Harry stood on the threshold between the rooms, delight evident in his face. “This is beautiful, Severus!”

“My mother had the entire place renovated the year before her death with the trust fund attached to the house, and no one has lived here since then. The house-elves keep it immaculate, and I haven’t been able to stay here since Christmas of your fourth year,” Severus told him quietly. “I always feel closer to my mother when I am here.”

Harry turned and walked over to where the Potions Master stood at the window, looking out over the gardens, and wrapped his arms around the older man’s waist.

“Albus and Filius were here yesterday to re-enforce the wards and protective fields, making the house is unplottable and undetectable.”

The younger wizard pressed himself against his mate, wanting to rid him of the lingering sadness he could feel through the link. “I am not worried, Severus, you are here and that is all I need to be happy.”

With a smile, the Slytherin turned in the teen’s arms and pulled him into a warm embrace. “Indeed, Mister Potter, does this mean I should tell Tiffy to cease her dinner preparations?” 

Without waiting for an answer, Severus captured the slightly chapped lips in a gentle kiss, feeling Harry lean into him. The kiss deepened and became hungry, the slender fingers sliding down to cup taut arse cheeks, pulling the younger man flush against him. A moan sounded between them as Harry slid his hands under the pullover shirt Severus was wearing, stroking the warm, firm flesh of his back. Both men were hard and aching, erections rubbing through their clothing, overwhelmed by the arousal and magic flaring between them.

“Master Severus, sir, dinner’s being ready, sir.”

With tremendous effort, Severus stilled his hands, holding Harry close while they both drew in deep breaths 

“Thank you, Tiffy; we will be there in a moment.”

Dinner was simple but excellent summer fare of grilled fish, pasta, and vegetables. The couple lingered over a fine merlot, talking quietly about the coming term at Hogwarts and their expectations for Harry’s seventh year. They had less than two weeks before Severus must return to Hogwarts to prepare for the new school year. Harry smiled, as he had had enough detentions in the past to help with the inventory and restocking of the potion store cupboards, and he smirked as Severus muttered darkly about gillyweed and boomslang skin. Their living arrangements would remain the same, with Harry sharing the Potions Master’s dungeon chambers, and the Headmaster marking Harry’s potions work.

It was late by the time Severus finished with his shower; Harry was curled up in a chair in front of the fireplace in the sitting area of the bedroom, reading a book he had found in the library. Pulling on his dressing gown, Severus nervously patted the pocket for the box he’d slipped in there earlier, and moved to join the younger man. He moved into the sitting area after making sure the window by the bed was open enough for any stray owls to find. Lighting several candles about the room, Severus cleared the small table in front of the couch as he sat down. With the wave of his hand, he lit a small ornamental fire in the fireplace, and heard the younger sigh with pleasure.

As the clock ticked towards midnight, Harry put his book down and moved to sit beside his mate on the couch. Eyes on the clock, the teenager found his hand enveloped by a larger one, and he pressed into his mate’s warm form. As the second hand swept toward midnight and the clock struck the hour, a chocolate cake appeared on the table in front of him. Its seventeen green candles were lit, and the writing in green frosting read:

“ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!_ ’

Tears forming in his eyes, the teenager screwed his face up in concentration as he thought of a wish, and then blew the candles out. As he started to turn, he felt himself drawn into Severus lap, a tight arm around his waist. Nervousness bled through the bond. 

“Happy Birthday, love,” the older man told him, as he leaned forward for a kiss. “You are now officially an adult in the wizarding world, and can make choices for yourself.”

Severus took a breath, knowing that his voice was sounding stilted and professorial, and focused on the deep feelings he had come to have for Harry. Retrieving the jeweler’s box from his pocket, he palmed it.

“Six weeks ago, you were forced into a bonding of your soul without choice, and while I can not change that, nor do I wish to, I would be very honored if you agreed to marry me, as I have discovered that I love you to the exclusion of all else.”

Ignoring the bemused look on the younger man’s face, Severus opened the box and handed it to Harry. Candlelight glinted off the intertwined gold and silver in the two rings, and the emerald center stones twinkled as the box was tilted. Severus held his breath as Harry took the box to study the two male bonding rings, their ancient Celtic runes woven into the design, proclaiming honesty, integrity, love, fertility, and protective spells. The silver serpent that encircled the golden Phoenix represented their values and loyalty to the Light, they represented a part of each of them. 

“Oh, Severus, they are exquisite! Yes, I love you and would be honored to marry you.”

Harry recognized what his mate was asking, giving him the chance to make his own decision based on his feelings, despite the bond they already shared. To marry, acting on the love that they held for each other instead of the bond they were forced into by an evil bastard, was their own decision. Their marriage would be sacred, made even more so by the depth of the bond they shared. His intended leaned toward him and captured his lips in a sweet, gentle kiss, one that quickly deepened into hunger and need.

A flap of wings and a belligerent hoot heralded the arrival of Hedwig, who swooped through open window to deposit her parcel on the couch beside the couple, and Harry broke the kiss as he laughed at her antics. The snowy owl landed gently on his shoulder, her amber eyes looking the Potions Master up and down, scowling at the gentle smile on his face.

“I think you are scaring Hedwig, Severus, she is not used to seeing you smile,” the Gryffindor chuckled as the two glared at each other.

Hedwig was followed by Errol, the Weasleys’ ancient owl, Pigwidgeon, and two tawny barn owls that Harry recognized as Hogwarts’ owls. Reaching over the relieve them of their burdens, Harry piled the cards and parcels on the table beside his birthday cake. As he sat back, he swiped his finger through the frosting. Severus had not relinquished his hold on his waist, and Harry leaned back against him, sharing the taste of chocolate frosting with his mate. 

‘ _I want you first, love, and then we will have cake. I have waited so long for this._ ’

Allowing himself to be swept to the elegant four-poster, Harry finally realized that Severus had been reluctant to further their physical activities until he was of age, and could legally make his own choices. Choices had been nearly non-existent in his life, and Harry appreciated the gesture. He cupped the face of the wizard settling above him and pulled him into a deep kiss. Fire ignited along their skin, as clothing disappeared and they lost themselves in each other. Hands stroked and lips nipped as the two truly made love for the first time. 

Arching his back as a tongue speared into his navel, Harry wove his hands into the long, silky tresses. Magic tingled along every portion of skin that was stroked, his cock impossibly hard as long slender fingers stroked it, and Harry moaned. The sensations flowing through their link allowed him to experience the thrill of stroking and being stroked simultaneously, and the wet warmth that enveloped his erection sent him tumbling over the edge, climaxing with a shout down his partner’s throat. Severus continued to murmur soft words of love as he summoned a vial of sweet smelling oil from the bathroom. 

Severus kissed his way back up the younger man’s body, his oiled fingers moving to prepare Harry. Severus was having a hard time keeping his body under control; his mate’s responsiveness, in addition to the sensations flowing through them and the feel of their immense magic combining, was almost too much. Concentrating on making sure his fingers stroked across the prostate, sending a jolt of electricity through both of them, he was unprepared for the wave of intense emotion that swelled over him through the bond. The amount of love he felt from the younger man humbled him, and he leaned in for a kiss, devouring the sweet mouth. As he slipped into the tight, velvety heat, Severus reached out through the link for an anchor to keep himself from exploding too soon, but Harry was already thrashing and rocking his hips, taking both of the over the pinnacle in a manner of minutes. A short time later, a whispered cleaning charm was cast, and then both fell asleep, bodies entwined.

At three in the morning, Severus awoke to stroking fingers and a mouth sweet with chocolate cake, as Harry took his turn worshiping the older man’s body with lips and fingers. 

Sighing as he arched into his mate’s touch, Severus murmured, “I have created a monster.”


	8. Official Messages

The sun was shining when Harry awoke, the bed beside him empty and cold. By the look of the sun, it was mid-morning, a realization that cleared the fog from his mind and had him on his feet immediately. Severus would have his head for sleeping through the morning training, no matter how late they had been up engaging in nefarious activities. Jamming his legs into workout shorts, he moved towards the bedroom door, only to stop short as he saw the older wizard sitting on the couch in the sitting area, calmly drinking tea in his dressing gown.

Looking up at him with a smirk, Severus openly eyed his bare chest, which Harry liked to think was taking on a more defined look. “I thought we’d take the day off from training.”

Sliding onto the man’s lap, Harry snagged the cup and drained it, before leaning in for a kiss. By the time he had pulled back, both men were breathing hard. Severus wrapped his arms around his mate and tugged him close, sighing into his messy hair.

“Happy Birthday, my brat,” he whispered into the perfect shell of one ear. “You have post over there, some of which appears official in nature.”

The tapping of an official-looking Ministry owl had awoken Severus an hour before, and the older man knew when he saw the seal that it was from the department that oversaw inheritance. The Potters were an ancient pureblood family on par with the Blacks and the Malfoys, and Severus knew that his young love was about to learn just how wealthy he was. Pushing the younger wizard to his feet, he snapped his fingers, and Harry heard the delicate tinkling of a bell, and one of the house-elves popped into the room.

“Good morning, Tiffy. If we could get crepes for Harry this morning, please? He is partial to strawberries and cherries.”

“Certainly, Master Severus.” The elf bowed, then disappeared with a pop. 

Harry smiled as he moved to gather the owl post sitting on the table. He opened cards and presents, rock cakes from Hagrid, another cake from Missus Weasley, a book on wizarding traditions from Hermione, an assortment of sweets from Ron, Fred, and George, and a bar of Honeydukes chocolate from Ginny. Harry smiled happily, and his mate noted the look of joy that lit his face at the simple gifts his friends had sent. A portion of his brain plotted another trip to Privet Drive, maybe for Christmas. 

Picking up a thick parchment envelope, Harry eyed the official looking seal with some trepidation. What would the Ministry want with him on his seventeenth birthday? A second thick envelope bore the watermark of Gringotts Bank, and Harry’s heart dropped. Had he used all the money in his vault already, or did he lose what was left when he became of age? He carried them back over to where Severus sat watching him, and dropped them in his lap.

“I’m not sure anything from the Ministry is good, love, will you open it for me?” Harry tried to sound nonchalant, but he knew the man he was bound to was not fooled.

Severus waited until Harry had poured a fresh cup of tea for them to share, and drew him down to sit on the couch. Taking the younger man’s hand, he placed the envelope in it before slitting the parchment with a wave of his hand.

“It can only be opened by you, Harry,” he explained as he pulled out several sheets of parchment.

Harry sat stiffly beside the older wizard as he scanned the sheets, and was surprised by the feeling of disbelief that flooded through the bond. The longer Severus was silent, the more apprehensive the young Gryffindor became, and without realizing it, he delved into the bond deeply. Suddenly, he was in Severus’ mind, the incredulous feeling of amazement swamping him, along with an oddly triumphant feeling as he gazed down at the parchment. He felt Severus turn and look at him, saw himself through his mate’s eyes, felt the humor at his impatience, and heard the ‘impertinent brat’ thought that went with it. 

Harry backed out hastily, and gave the older man a doleful look. “I’m sorry.”

“You amaze me at times, Mister Potter, with your abilities as well as your capacity to place blame on yourself,” Professor Snape emerged from Severus’ barely clad body. “I sincerely hope you do not expect me to apologize every time I sneak a peak at your thoughts.”

“Git,” Harry smacked his arm, and then leaned against his lover’s side heavily.

“This is the official notification from the Ministry of Magic on the titles, properties, and monies you have inherited; they come under your control as of today. I must confess to being delighted as I read this, because it indicates that your total monetary worth thrice exceeds that of the Malfoys.” 

Harry looked at him blankly, his mind not processing the elegant speech, as it was opposite what he thought the letter might say.

“It means,” his mate said with a small sigh. “Your parents and Black left you a staggering amount of money, a half dozen homes besides Grimmauld Place, several undeveloped pieces of property, and several royal titles you may chose to use.”

“Really?” Harry asked, surprised. 

“Apparently.” The Slytherin smiled. “I wonder what Lucius Malfoy will say when he hears you may be addressed as ‘Duke’ or ‘Your Grace’, not to mention a hereditary title passed to you just after birth from your grandfather Evans, and an earldom which you may or may not be entitled to through the inheritance Black left you. Most of these titles have little to do with your magical inheritance, as you see in the case of your mother.”

Harry grinned maliciously. “Maybe we should write Aunt Petunia and let her know if anything happens to me, her Duddykins would be a…”

“Count,” Severus supplied with a sneer, thinking perhaps that was news he could deliver in person.

"And did you say something about having more money than Malfoy?” Harry slid under the older man’s arm to half sprawl in his lap and read the letter.

Scanning the greeting quickly, Harry read down swiftly, until he caught up with the Potions Master’s slender fingertip, tapping a paragraph. His eyes widened as he took in the figures of each of his inheritances, knowing that even if he spent a small fortune everyday, he’d never be able to use it all in his life time, or Severus’. 

“What in the world will we do with all this?” he breathed, angling his head back to look at his mate. “Do you think it would be all right to give some of it away?” A gleam lit the emerald eyes. “Can I give some of it to the Weasleys, Sev, without them knowing it was from me?”

Leaning down to kiss the younger man, Severus smiled. “Yes, Your Highness,” to which Harry responded with a smack to his arm and a grin. 

Tiffy popped in with a tray full of golden-brown crepes, silver bowls full of different fruits, a crystal bowl of clotted cream, and flagons of juice and tea. Harry grabbed the letter from Gringotts as they moved to sit at the table Tiffy waved into existence. Carefully opening the envelope and drawing out several sheets of parchment with columns of figures on them, Harry scanned them quickly as he absently accepted a cup from his mate. Crepes moved over to his plate as he waved his hand, and he absently spread fresh strawberries on the top, as his eyes scanned the letter from the goblins.

“Bloody hell! Severus, you have to read this!”

Harry shoved the cover letter at the older Wizard, and then began to scan the columns on the next page. According to the goblins’ calculations, he had at least two dozen vaults that had become his today, some very large and some small. Most held gold, jewels, and money, but there were at least three that contained heirloom items from three different sources. A gasp from Severus told Harry the man had reached the significant paragraph.

“Did you know?” 

“I realized that I most probably was an heir to Godric Gryffindor when I pulled his sword from the Sorting Hat in the Chamber of Secrets, but I wasn’t sure I was supposed to tell anyone. The part about Sirius being a descendent of Salazar Slytherin is a little surprising, but would explain the family’s deep love of the Dark Arts, I guess,” Harry’s voice trailed off.

“And you had no way of knowing that your muggle-born mother was a direct descendent of Merlin; I am not sure that she or her parents or grandparents were even aware of their connection,” Severus told him in a quiet voice. “There is no denying the facts though, as the great sorcerer bespelled these items to specifically go his magical and blood heir upon his majority.”

Harry took a bite of his crepes, and chewed carefully. “There could be all manner of powerful spells and potions in those vaults, couldn’t there, Sev? Like a spell or a potion that would defeat Voldemort?”

“We need to speak to Albus, love,” Severus said with a nod. He could almost feel the vibration of power residing in the papers in his hands. 

Taking a pinch of floo powder, Severus fire-called the Headmaster, who was in a meeting, and casually asked him to come through when he could. Harry finished his crepes, drank his tea, and made his way into the bathroom. Showered and dressed, his mind still trying to digest the news he had received, Harry returned to the sitting area. The taller wizard had also dressed, and was seated on the sofa, going over the pages of parchment.

“I believe I have found a lesser Black vault that we can divert to the Arthur Weasley, as a blood relative, and have the goblins notify him, noting the main heir had just reached his majority and that is why the money had not been distributed prior.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean, a ‘lesser’ vault?”

Severus arched an eyebrow and almost smirked. “According to the inventory, this vault holds about a million galleons.”

Harry looked at him, fighting a smile. With the wave of his hand, his mate beckoned him over, and pulled the younger man into his lap. Strong arms cradled him, and Harry buried his face in the man’s warm neck, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of it. An image surfaced in his mind of him dressed in ermine robes and a crown on his head, surrounded by simpering young women in various states of undress. He burst out laughing, and smacked Severus’ arm.

“Lovely image, my dear mate, just lovely,” Harry chuckled, retaliating with the image of his lips wrapped around the Slytherin’s erect penis, head bobbing.

“Brat!” Severus kissed him hard.

A throat being gently cleared brought them back to reality. Severus knew it was Albus Dumbledore before he opened his eyes. His head was still reeling from everything they had learned this morning and he wondered if the Headmaster had had any idea. Watching Harry greet the powerful wizard, he thought again of the immense wealth the seventeen year old now controlled. Severus was moderately wealthy in his own right, owning this house and a larger estate north of London, as well as the Manor. He held the rights to a number of potions he had created over the years, as well as the money his mother and her family had left him. His father had run through the Snape family fortune in his support of the Dark Lord during the first war, and although Severus had managed to hold onto Snape Manor, the house was in disrepair and needed extensive renovating.

“Severus?” 

Looking up, the Potions Master saw a concerned look on his young mate’s face, as Albus made himself comfortable in a chintz armchair he had just conjured. Handing the Headmaster a cup of tea, and gathering the sheets of parchment together, Harry handed them to the wizard to read, and settled back on the couch.

_~Are you all right?~_

_~A bit shocked, I suppose, love. I had expected you to inherit some money from your father, but nothing at this scale. I have enough money for both of us to live comfortably, but nowhere near what you have inherited.~_

_~What we have, Severus, this is our money.~_

Severus reached out and caressed the beloved face. _~This will require heirs to ensure the proper transition of the heritage vaults, love.~_

Harry smiled broadly, and leaned into the caress. _~Guess I don’t need to worry about finding a job after Hogwarts, might as well have some babies.~_

A gasp from the Headmaster had both heads turning to look at the source. The look of amazement on the lined face drew smiles from the bonded pair.

“I don’t think he knew about Mum’s ancestry, Severus.”

“I do believe you are correct, Harry.”

The clear blue eyes peered at them over the half-moon spectacles, their gaze deadly serious. “You do realize that this is unprecedented, don’t you? Access to the vault of Merlin is priceless, as is the possession of both the Founders’ vaults. This is information that I would not even share with the Order of the Phoenix, it is simply too tempting. What might be stored in these vaults is the stuff of legends, my boys, and Lord Voldemort, for one, would resort to all out slaughter to get his hands on the secrets held within any one of them.”

Nodding his head, Harry met the blue eyes intently. “Yes, sir, I understand that, and I also want to keep the news of the rest of my inheritance a secret. I don’t need anyone knowing about the money or titles either. And I’d like to put some of it to good use, if you can help us?”

“Indeed, I would be delighted to help you in any way. I would ask you to allow me to accompany you into the vaults when you decide to go.” The Headmaster surveyed them both intently. “Both of you must draw up wills immediately. The heritage vaults might close themselves off at the death of the heir, but the amount of money you possess must be considered. In fact, Harry, if something were to happen to you at this moment, your aunt and uncle could place a claim on your inheritance.”

Gritting his teeth, Harry met his lover’s eyes, and no words were necessary. “When can we make arrangements to examine the vaults and speak to someone about wills, Professor?”

“I believe I can have arrangements made in three or four days. Now, is there something specific you have in mind that you would like to do, Harry?”

Harry settled against Severus, his fingers twisting the bonding ring nervously and told the Headmaster what Severus had put together for the Weasleys; the sorcerer nodded his head as he spoke. Then, hesitantly, Harry told the two men that he wanted to be able to help victims of Voldemort, whether it was paying for the treatment that Frank and Alice Longbottom received at Saint Mungo’s, or Draco Malfoy’s last year of school as his father had disowned him for refusing the Dark Mark.

“I would really like to have a huge house somewhere where the magical children who have lost parents to Voldemort. It doesn’t matter if they are orphans because their parents were Death Eaters, or if their families were killed in one of Riddle’s murderous rages,. They should all have a place to grow up where they won’t have to worry about where their next meal is coming from, or having to wear someone else’s old clothes, or being punished simple because of who their parents were.”

Old blue eyes were serious as they met emerald, and Severus’ arm tightened almost painfully around the young wizard. Dumbledore nodded in understanding, knowing better than most the anguish the young Gryffindor had suffered during his short life. The weight of the Prophecy still sat heavily on Harry’s shoulders, only Severus’ presence now made it seem almost bearable. Whether he knew it or not, the man who had been the bane of his school years was now Harry’s life-line, despite the circumstance of their bonding. Severus was his hope for a future, for a family. 

Albus asked a few clarifying questions before leaving in a swirl of green flame to make the necessary arrangements. Concerned with the churning emotions he could feel radiating from his lover, Severus pulled Harry onto his lap and held him close to his chest. Pressing a kiss into the wild raven hair, he rubbed slow circles on the young man’s back. Harry turned and burrowed his face into the older man’s neck, but Severus would not let him hide, lifting his chin for a kiss. 

“Only you could celebrate your coming of age with royal titles and a billion galleons, Mister Potter.”

Laughing, Harry kissed the snarky sneer from his mouth. “You just want to marry me for my money and good looks.”

“Indeed.” Severus kissed him back.

After a quick floo trip to the Ministry of Magic, where Harry slipped in, took his Apparation test, and left without undue notice, they spent the afternoon talking quietly, studying the parchment that itemized Harry’s various vaults, and discussing what to do with each. The money the twins had been putting in a vault for Harry had grown to a respectable size on its own, and Harry proposed it be used for some kind of scholarship or apprentice program for students who showed a potential for brilliance but had no funds. A new, large vault would be set up for their joint use, with each of them contributing money to it. After hearing about Snape Manor, Harry insisted they set a vault aside for its renovation, as well as the maintenance of any of the properties they owned. 

“If we have, say, three children, love, one of them might want the home that had been in your family for generations. They won’t have the same bad memories to associate with the place.”

Severus found he agreed and marked the vault Harry indicated for that use. As he had for the Weasleys, Harry wanted to set up vaults for the other Black relatives that he knew, ones he felt deserved the money. They added equal amounts for Draco Malfoy, Nymphadora Tonks, and her parents, Andromeda and Ted Tonks. Going through the Black family connections brought up the subject of Lucius Malfoy.

“I thought you and he were close, Severus,” Harry said carefully.

Severus snorted and shook his head. “Lucius was five years ahead of me and a prefect when I came to Hogwarts, and he was even more arrogant than Draco. He ignored the younger students in Slytherin until the Dark Lord told him to start recruiting students. By then I had already shown an aptitude for potions and my father had committed me to service to the Dark Lord, who told Lucius he want the boy to mentor me, which to Malfoy meant use and abuse me at his whim. Our families had known each other for years, and had, of course, socialized since I was a child, but I would not say that Lucius has ever been my ‘friend’.”

“So you won’t mind if we help Draco, then? I mean, he’s been alright since he and Ginny started dating, although it took a knock-down fight to settle our differences. I don’t know if we will ever truly be friends,” Harry said bluntly, old animosities hard to keep buried.

“He has shown himself to be on the side of Light, love,” Severus said quietly.

Harry sighed, and stood up from his chair, arching his back tiredly. This coming of age business was tiring, he thought as his stomach growled. Severus looked up from his perusal of the vault inventories to watch the young man fondly. He waved his hand, and a large package wrapped in green paper with s silver ribbon appeared on the couch in the place Harry had just vacated. Harry stared at it.

“Go on, Harry, open it.”

_~Bloody Slytherin colors!~_

Severus smirked at him, watching him as he ripped open the paper. Removing the lid, Harry saw a set of fine dress robes of raw silk in emerald green, black trousers, a fine white linen shirt, black dragon-hide boots, and a soft black cloak. Harry was delighted. He had never had such fine clothing, and the cloak was the softest thing he had ever felt.

“I thought we would dress for dinner tonight, love, to honor the occasion.”

Harry felt elegant in his new robes. The trousers were obviously tailored to fit him, and hugged the curve of his arse lovingly. The linen shirt, crisp and taut across his shoulders, and the cut-away design of the robes accented his slender, lithe form. Severus stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in midnight blue robes, with a silver silk shirt, and gray trousers. Stopping short, Harry barely contained the wolf whistle that pursed his lips, and his lover laughed, stepping closer to kiss those lips. With a soft sigh, Harry opened up to the older wizard, stepping closer to wrap him arms around Severus’ waist, the kiss deepening as tongues caress each other. With a gentle movement, the Potions Master disentangled himself, and with a shaking hand, swept a thumb over a fine cheekbone. 

“We’ll have plenty of time later for that later, my Duke.”

“Greasy git!”

Severus just laughed and took Harry’s hand, leading him down to the ground floor of the house to an elegant formal dining room that had not been used in many years. As his fiancée ushered him into the room, Harry took in the many candles shedding a golden glow over the long cherry wood table. Goblin-wrought silver cutlery was placed beside elegant china and silver goblets. The long table held many place settings, and it took Harry a minute to realize that all of the seats around the long table were occupied by people dressed in their best robes. Dumbstruck, he took in most of the Weasley family, Hermione, Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Arabella Figg, and Tonks. Surprisingly, seated beside Ginny was Draco Malfoy.

“Happy Birthday, Harry!” Everyone shouted in unison, as Hermione and Ginny jumped up to throw their arms around him, and the other ladies stood waiting their turns. 

A bemused Harry was finally gathered up by his mate and led to the head of the table, where Severus seated him in the place of honor, before seating himself to his right. The conversation was lively and flowed around them, Severus noting that the younger man’s eyes sparkled with enjoyment.

_~Thank you, Severus, no one has ever given me a party before.~_

_~I am pleased that you are enjoying it, love.~_

_~I know what else I would really enjoy, Sev.~_

And Harry sent his mate a graphic picture of exactly what he wanted later, causing the older man to almost choke on his soup.

_~Impertinent brat!~_


	9. Wills and Vaults

Early the next morning both men were seated in a richly appointed office in London, waiting to see the barrister the Headmaster had chosen. Severus covered a smile as he felt the heat of Harry’s eyes sweep over him again. It seemed his young bond-mate thought he looked attractive in his tailored black silk Muggle suit, and he had to admit that the younger man looked quite handsome himself in the charcoal gray Italian suit the Headmaster had sent over last night after the dinner party. The willowy blonde secretary, seated at her mahogany desk, her face made up perfectly and every hair in place, also kept sweeping her eyes appreciatively of the Potions master’s form. He favored her with a sneer of disinterest.

A tall, well-dressed man in his forties with thinning brown hair came out of a discretely placed door across the reception room and approached them. Severus and Harry stood as one, side by side, as the man flashed them a perfect smile and extended his hand towards the Potions master.

“Mister Potter?”

The former Death Eater glared at the prat and pointed silently at his mate. Flushing, the man solemnly shook Harry’s hand, before turning to Severus with a muttered apology.

“Wilson Smythly-Parker. Gentlemen, if you would follow me?”

A tingle of magic told the pair felt as the barrister ushered them into his posh office told them that they had passed through a protective field. Settling themselves into overstuffed leather armchairs, they watched as Smythly-Parker conjured a tea tray and set it on a low table to the side of his massive mahogany desk, and poured them both a cup. Taking the opportunity to look around, Harry saw a huge marble fireplace filled half of one wall, and a bank of windows on the opposite wall let in the bright August sunshine. The gentleman seated himself behind the desk and shuffled through a stack of parchment, pulling one long piece towards him.

“Now, as I understand it, Mister Potter and Mister Snape, you both would like to set up wills to ensure the proper succession of heir rights for a vast amount of wealth and property.” As he spoke, the man slipped a pair of gold reading glasses onto the end of his straight nose. 

“There are several people I would like to give vaults to without letting them know that the money came from me, Mister Smythly-Parker. I’d also like to set up everything for the children Severus and I hope to have in the next few years,” Harry explained as he leaned forward towards the desk. “This is very important to us, as I am sure Professor Dumbledore told you.”

The aristocratic looking man frowned as he reviewed the parchment in front of him. “Albus told me the two of you had been bonded in unusual circumstances, but according to the official Ministry of Magic records here, you were actually forced into the bond by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Is this correct?” He peered over the top of the reading glasses at them.

“The circumstances of our bond should have no bearing on our making a joint will, surely,” Severus was attempting to rein in his irritation.

“But it does, Mister Snape…”

“Professor Snape, if you please,” the Potions master ground out at him.

“Oh, yes, apologies, Professor. As I was saying, it has everything to do with the type of heredity trust will you are trying to write. The Ministry of Magic does not recognize the inheritance of a forced partner, and if something should happened, each of your estates would immediately become the property of your closest blood relatives.”

A headache was forming behind the eyes of each bond mate, and Harry spoke their thoughts before Severus could make a snarky comment. “What do we have to do to satisfy the Ministry requirements, Mister Smythly-Parker?”

The barrister removed his glasses and set them down on the top of the desk. “You must be legally married before we can proceed.”

Harry looked at Severus, not sure how the man who had proposed to him just two days ago was going to feel about being forced into marrying before he felt ready. The obsidian eyes glimmered with humor, and the amusement came rushing through the bond, as the younger man looked at him in surprise.

“I was going to see if I could persuade you to elope with me before the term started, so I have the rings with me.” Severus held his eyes. “If you are willing?”

Harry nodded his agreement, the elation he felt flooding the link between them, and Severus smiled. One hour and several fire-calls later, the two men stood in front of a member of the Order of the Phoenix who also happened to be a Ministry-certified wizard, and were married in a quick ceremony with Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley standing as witnesses. The time they had waited had been put to good use preparing the desired documents, and as soon as the marriage license was legally signed, Severus and Harry signed the joint will that protected the Potter-Snape fortune and ensured the succession of the ancient bloodline vaults. 

The marriage would be kept secret, as would the extent of Harry’s inheritance, until after the defeat of the Dark Lord; the rings on their fingers were charmed to appear to anyone who did not know of their union to be simple signet rings. Harry could feel the protective magic in his, and knew that they had done the right thing in getting married. There was no question that the bonded pair would share living chambers when they returned to Hogwarts, but this would solidify their position if anyone chose to question it. 

Bidding Ron and Hermione goodbye, Harry and Severus Apparated with the Headmaster to Diagon Alley, where they had planned to have a bite of lunch before their appointment at Gringotts. The trio headed to a small restaurant around the corner from the Leaky Cauldron that served excellent food in a discrete atmosphere. Albus insisted on paying for the meal as a wedding present, he told them happily, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. With a silencing charm around them, the three wizards discussed what they might find in the vaults they were about to explore. 

“Much mystery surrounds Merlin’s birth,” the Headmaster told Harry as they ate. “Legends agree on the fact that his mother was a nun of royal blood, but the identity of his other parent has never been established. Some attribute Merlin’s conception to an incubus, others to a close male friend, which would seem unlikely in a nunnery. There is also a line of thought that believes that another woman, the soul mate of the nun, is the other mother, but nothing has ever been proven.”

Harry nodded as he listened, his thigh pressed against his new husband’s. It was only recently that Harry had learned that same sex couples could conceive, and a soft smile touched his lips as he thought of a tiny life growing inside him.

“Merlin himself was said to have two great loves in his life, but the Lady of the Lake, Vivienne was his soul mate. I believe it is that union you are descended from, Harry. Legend has it she was very powerful in her own right and Merlin taught her everything he knew; in fact, her powers became so great that she subsequently imprisoned him in a glass tower on Avalon.” The elderly wizard set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. “Any child they might have had would have the potential to possess enormous power.”

“What do you believe we might find in the vault, Albus?” Severus looked at him over the rim of his wine glass.

The Headmaster steepled his fingers and looked over the top of his half-moon spectacles at him. “I don’t believe there is much in the way of monetary value, but it is said that the vault holds the journals that Merlin wrote over the years, from the rise of Camelot to the training of the Lady of the Lake. They may even hold his prophecies, his potion experiments, and many long forgotten magical spells.”

“All of which would be priceless in today’s world,” Severus muttered quietly as he stood. He led the way around the scattered tables and out of the restaurant.

Making their way casually towards Gringotts, the trio kept their conversation bland, commenting on the passing scenery and articles in the shop windows. Stepping into the ornately furnished lobby of the white marble building, they were immediately greeted by a nattily dressed goblin and escorted through a door into a side room. The elaborate sitting room almost rivaled the lawyer’s office in opulence, and Severus snorted as he sent an image of a caped and crowned Harry being seated in a throne instead of the overstuffed couch he pulled Severus to. His new husband stifled a laugh and pointedly ignored him as an even shorter goblin entered the room. Professor Dumbledore had taken a seat in a cushy armchair just inside the door.

“Gentlemen, I am Greagale, and I am in charge of the vaults of the ancients. I will be escorting you down to Merlin’s vault as soon as you have concluded your routine banking needs with Griphook.”

The goblin that had escorted them into the room returned and handed Harry a long roll of parchment. He unrolled it and leaned against the Potions master so that they could both inspect it. It was an outline of the redistribution of all their money and vaults, which had been finalized that morning after their marriage ceremony. A number of smaller vaults had gone to various people anonymously, including Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley and his parents, Nymphadora Tonks, and Draco Malfoy. A sizable contribution had been made to a foundation that helped those people who had been victimized by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The goblin handed each man a leather pouch crammed full of galleons for their personal expenses, as they had requested. 

Nodding his satisfaction, Severus handed the paperwork back to Harry, who made one adjustment. He wanted a vault set up for the proceeds the Weasley twins sent him for being a third owner in their business; the funds would be used to make regular contributions to the charity they supported. After the taller goblin bowed and left the room with their thanks, Greagale stood and handed each of the wizards a pair of white gloves woven of the finest silk.

“If you will put those on prior to entering the vault of Merlin, they will allow you to touch any of the items within it in a manner that does not damage them. Follow me, please.”

The ride down to the vault took longer than Harry was used to, but he reasoned that a vault such as this one would be on the lower reaches of the bank. They had decided to concentrate on Merlin’s vault today, and had arranged to return before school began to look at the vault of Godric Gryffindor. The cart jerked to a stop in front of a massive set of metal doors, and Greagale waved Harry out first. 

“You must press your hand against the door handle. A sharp point will prick your skin and a drop of blood will identify you as the rightful heir.”

Stepping forward, Harry grabbed the door handle and tried not to yelp when he felt a thin blade cut his palm. There was an immediate rumbling, and the massive doors swung inward to reveal a pitch-black space. Severus moved to his side, and he felt the warmth of his mate’s hand in his; the Headmaster moved to stand on Harry’s other side. As one, the three men moved forward, and a soft glow lit the room when Harry stepped over the threshold. He could feel the magic wash over him, and he stopped just inside the vault with a gasp.

Along the wall to the right, there were piles and piles of golden objects. Some were gold galleon-like coins in neat piles, and others were golden goblets and plates, encrusted with precious jewels; still other piles contained golden battle gear and armor. Elegantly carved furniture sat stacked and draped in dust cloths lining the wall all the way to the back of the large vault, and what looked like wardrobes, presumably filled with clothing, stood in front of the furniture. The wall to the left was lined with shelves that held books, potion vials, cauldrons, and other wizarding items. 

To Harry, the most striking sight was a carved wooden staff with an emerald green crystal at the top, which flared to life as Harry had stepped into the room. Forgetting the silk gloves in his pocket, Harry moved as if drawn to the staff, and extended his hand. Without a word, it shot across the distance, slapping into his hand with a resounding smack. Magic leapt from the wood and jolted along his nerve endings, sending a wave of powerful magic into his body, where it seemed to be absorbed into his magical core. A breeze stirred his hair as a flash of heat ran through him. 

Harry knew that Severus could feel the surge of magic through their bond, and looked questioningly towards him. The older wizard shook his head minutely and sent reassurances to him; Albus Dumbledore simply watched with an approving smile. Even their goblin escort seemed to realize that something important had happened, and stepped back to stand outside the vault doors. Moving to stand behind his young spouse, Severus gently gripped Harry’s right arm, bring the staff closer so he could examine it for a moment. The Headmaster slipped his hands into the silk gloves and moved off to examine some of the golden artifacts on the right side. 

Planting a kiss on the top of the raven hair, Severus approached the bookshelves and began closely examining the ancient tomes. Still gripping the staff, unwilling to let go of the wood that felt alive in his hand, Harry moved to stand in the middle of the cavernous room. Many things seemed to call to him as he stood there, and he closed his eyes, clearing his mind as Severus had taught him to do. Concentrating hard, he focused on what might most help him in his battle to defeat Voldemort.

A clatter at his feet had Harry opening his eyes to see several objects now littering the floor around him. Glancing up at his companions, Harry crouched down to examine them. A flat black leather box lay next to a pair of golden bracelets adorned with precious stones; a handwritten journal, open to a heavily marked page, had landed nearby, also. He could feel his mate move to join him, and he could see the deep scarlet robes of the Headmaster from the corner of his eye, as he gently picked up the leather box. Opening it, he found a wand of a light-colored wood that was so highly polished it looked golden at first glance. Gingerly picking it up, Harry gave it a little wave, and watched in amazement as gold and green sparks shot from the wand.

“It appears to belong to you now, Harry.” There was a note of amazement in the Headmaster’s voice as he watched the younger man set the wand gently back into the box.

Crouching down, Severus ran a finger over one of the golden bracelets, which glowed at his touch. “These are bonding bracelets, the type that soul-mated wizards used to wear before rings became fashionable.”

Harry picked up the bracelet his husband was touching, and cradling the staff in the crook of his arm, fastened the bracelet on Severus’ right wrist, where it flared golden again. The Potions master reached for the second bracelet and slid it onto Harry’s right wrist, where it too glowed before sizing magically to fit his smaller wrist. Looking up, the young Gryffindor was surprised to see a look of joy cross both of the older men’s faces.

“What is it?” he asked.

“As Severus said, Harry, these are soul-mate bonding bracelets. They work only for those who are preordained to be soul-mates,” Dumbledore told him, his clear blue eyes twinkling merrily.

Harry frowned and looked to his spouse for an explanation. A soft smile transformed the taller man’s face, and he leaned in to gently brush his lips over Harry’s.

“It means that despite the circumstances in which we were initially bound together, we were destined to be together. We are soul-mates.”

“Brilliant!” Harry grinned as he leaned back in for a serious kiss, and felt a hand weave into the hair at the back of his head.

“Gentlemen,” the Headmaster coughed softly. 

Harry pulled back slowly, taking a deep breath before looking down at the journal that still lay beside his dragon-hide boot. Retrieving the silk gloves from his pocket, he pulled them on before kneeling and turning the book around to read it. The text was difficult to read, and appeared to be handwritten in a form of Old English. A paragraph leapt out at him as he ran a finger lightly down the page, and he attempted to decipher the passage.

“ _Eternal mates bound and true…darkness succumb to lightness enhanced…trio combined with expectant power the Dark Lord knows not …_ ”

“Professor, wasn’t Merlin known as a seer as well as a wizard?” Harry asked, standing and slowly straightening with the book cradled carefully in his hand.

Albus Dumbledore looked over from where he stood, examining the books on the shelves. “Yes, indeed, Harry, quite an accurate one at that.”

Harry swallowed and looked at his two companions. “I think I’ve found another prophecy. One made by Merlin about Voldemort.”


	10. Mars is Bright Tonight

The formal sitting room of the Prince House was bigger than the entire first floor of the Dursleys’ home, and much more inviting, Harry thought, as he sipped his tea. The wand he and Severus had brought back from the vault of Merlin sat in its box on the table in front of him, and the bonding bracelet and wedding ring he wore felt new and heavy on his hand and arm. Their suit jackets lay folded over a chair in the corner, Harry’s tie stuffed in one of his pockets. The journal they’d discovered had been careful protected for their trip from Diagon Alley to the London townhouse, and it now lay on the table, open to the page with the prophecy Merlin had written so many years ago:

“ _Eternal mates bound and true…darkness succumb to lightness enhanced…trio combined with expectant power the Dark Lord knows not …_ ”

“This seems more like a riddle than a prophecy,” Harry complained as his new husband paced in front of the fireplace. The Headmaster sat serenely sipping on his tea.

“Not necessarily, Harry, especially if you have studied some of Merlin’s other works, and some of the legends that surround his life.” Dumbledore set his teacup on the table and reached for a ginger newt. “The details of Merlin’s own birth are shrouded in mystery. Although the popular belief is that his conception was simply due to a soul-mate bonding, a more obscure legend insists that the soul-mates in question were two wizards, one a royal and brother to the woman ascribed as Merlin’s mother. This same obscure legend suggests that the circumstances of his birth are what gave Merlin his great power.”

Severus had stopped his pacing and turned to stare at his mentor. “Is there something you have discerned about this passage that you wish to share, Albus?”

“Well, it does seem to pertain to a bonded pair of soul-mates, as you and Harry are, Severus. I am somewhat confused about the reference to a trio, however,” Dumbledore told him, a slight frown on his face. 

“Why is that, Albus?”

“If this is something that pertains to you and Harry as a bonded pair, then the trio should also refer to you as well, but I am at a loss to understand who the third member of the ‘trio’ might be,” Dumbledore stood, brushing crumbs off the front of his robes. “I shall take my leave, and we can examine the possibilities further when you return to Hogwarts for the coming term. It is, after all, your wedding day, even if it was an unexpected event. I will leave you to your privacy.”

With a bow, the Headmaster disappeared in a flare of green flame, leaving behind a bemused pair of men. With a resigned shake of his head, Severus moved over to where his mate sat, and tugged him to his feet.

“Come, your Grace,” he said with affectionate sarcasm, “I think it is time for a relaxing stroll in the garden.”

Leading the younger man towards a door at the back of the house, Severus ushered him into the warm, shaded elegance of a walled garden. The smell of fresh earth and blooming flowers enveloped them as they walked along a flagstone pathway edged by terraced rows of heirloom rosebushes and bright flowers. In the middle of the courtyard stood a small pond and a grassy slope that was bathed in afternoon sunshine, with a stone bench set under a shade tree at the edge of the water. A wicker basket with a chilled bottle of white wine stood next to the bench.

Tugging the younger wizard into his arms, Severus captured his lips in a kiss meant to express all the emotion he was feeling. Declarations of love were not something he was entirely comfortable with, but he was determined that Harry know how he felt. The two men wrapped themselves around each other, and the sweetness of the caress rapidly turned heated as tongues mapped and claimed the other’s mouth. A blanket appeared on the stretch of soft grass and Severus guided his mate down to the finely woven surface. Settling himself in the cradle of Harry’s thighs, he cupped the beloved face in his hands, fingertips stroking the soft raven hair.

Harry slid his hands up his husband’s back, pausing to tug the fine linen shirt from the waistband of the man's trousers, and caressed the lean plain of his back. It was hard for him to believe that this man had come to mean so much to him in barely two months. He sighed against the moist lips that were ravaging his mouth as questing fingers brushed across his sensitive nipples, then thought turned to pure feeling as clothing was disposed of hurriedly, and skin sought skin. Stroking fingers and wet lips trailed down his throat, rediscovering pulse points and erogenous areas that shot pure feeling to his groin, and all Harry could do was hang onto soft curtains of hair as the caresses moved down his chest. A tongue speared into his navel, causing him to buck his hips hard, dislodging Severus. Harry took this chance to exchange positions and begin his own sweet torture.

Concentrating on lapping at the strong jaw beneath his lips, Harry was surprised by the caress of oiled fingers just before he was penetrated and stretched. Not relinquishing his position on top of the Slytherin, he teased earlobes with his teeth and pinched and tweaked Severus’ nipples with fingers suddenly clumsy with lust. With a whimper and a muttered plea, Harry pushed back against the fingers stroking across his sweet spot, only to find something thicker and wider nudging him. Sighing, he slid down, impaling himself slowly on his husband’s erection, even as his mouth and lips latched onto flat, dusky nipples. Their loving was slow and intense, a gradual building of swirling, tightening tendrils of feeling erupted in an explosive climax for Harry, which pushed Severus over the pinnacle with a shout. 

They lay together in a tangle of entwined limbs, warmed by the sunlight filtering through the leafy branches of the tree beside them. With a wave of his hand, Harry cast a cleansing charm, then snuggled closer to his mate. Content for the moment with his life, he slid slowly into a light doze, absolutely certain that Severus would watch over him and keep him safe while he slept.

 

Several days later that the pair hosted a small, intimate celebration of their marriage with their immediate circle of friends. The formal dining room of the Prince House groaned under the weight of food prepared by the house-elves, and champagne sat in silver buckets of ice next to bottles of butterbeer. A specific request for no gifts had not deterred any of these friends, especially those who had recently found themselves the beneficiaries of an unexpected windfall from Sirius Black’s estate, and a small pile of gifts stood stacked on a side table. Amid much laughter and genuine congratulatory feelings, the circle of friends was able to truly relax for the first time in ages. 

Hand in hand, Harry and Severus mingled with their guests feeling slightly uncomfortable with the attention. As much as they enjoyed seeing their friends and loved-ones, they were quite grateful when their guests began to depart. Signaling Ron and Hermione to stay, they graciously said goodbye to everyone but Albus Dumbledore, who followed them back into the study after the last of the Order had Flooed back to Grimmauld Place. Hermione’s eyes lit as they spied the wand case and journal sitting on the desk, each surrounded by a protective field. Circling the desk, Hermione all but drooled as she did a visual inspection of the precious items.

“How is the world did you get these?” she addressed the room in general as the men took seats in the small sitting area.

With occasional help from the Headmaster, Harry and Severus explained what had transpired the morning of his birthday, leading up to their visit to Merlin’s vault the morning they had married. The young witch hung on their words as they described what they had seen inside the vast area, and Ron tried hard to look interested as well. Harry went over the prophecy that he had discovered within the journal, and mentioned that they hoped Hermione would help them research its meaning. Waving a hand over the stasis field, Harry allowed her access to the items, which unleashed a flood of questions for debate. Ron was snoring on the small love seat by the time the others had finished poring over the words for the evening.

The ensuing days fell into a pattern, with the newlyweds using the morning hours for Occlumency and Legilimency, as well as wandless and nonverbal magical training, and the afternoons for research. Sometimes Severus joined Hermione in the library at Hogwarts, or in the Prince House study, with occasional forays to Grimmauld Place, while Ron and Harry worked on dueling skills, physical training, or flying. On occasion, the group was joined by Draco and Ginny, who did not know about Merlin’s legacy but helped in the physical and magical training. Severus disappeared a few times to brew needed potions, usually by himself or with an occasional helping hand from Draco or Hermione. 

In the evenings, Harry and Severus devoted their time to each other, sometimes with whispered words and burning caresses, and other times with the simple enjoyment of a cuddle as they read. They managed to visit Snape Manor; the home that had been in the family of Severus’ Muggle father for generations was in a state of disrepair. After touring the Georgian style home, they asked their solicitor to make arrangement to have the house completely remodeled, adding the best of both Muggle and wizarding technology to it. Tiffy was able to find some other elves, including some of her own relatives, who were seeking owners; thus, much to Hermione’s indignation, the couple acquired several new house-elves. 

The bonded pair returned to Hogwarts a week before classes were due to start, secure in the knowledge that the Manor and Prince House were safe, as they had been warded with the help of Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick. They were to join the rest of the staff in re-warding the castle the next morning; Harry was nervous about joining the faculty for this activity, but had not been able to turn down the Headmaster when those bright blue eyes twinkled merrily at him. Severus was of the opinion that it had nothing to do with being the Boy-Who-Lived, and everything to do with Harry carrying the blood of Merlin and Gryffindor in his veins.

They went to bed early, exhausted by the non-stop activities of the past three weeks, and were sleeping soundly when the clock struck midnight. The last quarter crescent of the moon was high in the sky, passing through the Hyades cluster as the leading bright edge of the Moon reached first-magnitude Aldebaran, eye of Taurus, and a brilliant Venus was very low, and Mars was twenty-seven degrees to Venus’ upper left. Between two bright stars, three stars formed an almost vertical line: Orion's belt, which pointed downward to Sirius. The Dog Star faithfully followed the Hunter across the sky. As the stars aligned overhead, a group of centaurs stood in a series of perfect circles deep within the Forbidden Forest, silently watching as the heavens confirmed a prediction made a millennium ago by a wise one.

In the large castle on the hill, an emerald-eyed wizard was torn from his sleep by what felt like a wave of fire flowing through him, blazing along his skeleton and nerve synapses to sear his brain. The intense wave awoke his mate, who felt a powerful backlash of power flowing through their bond, seeming to bind with his body and to his magic, to the point that the bond-mates became one. In an effort to reassure the younger man, Severus cradled Harry to his chest, whispering soft words of reassurance. Harry turned his head, his eyes glowing slightly in the light of the single candle, and sought a physical assurance that all was well. Pulling his husband onto his chest, Severus kissed him hungrily, his hands moving lightly over Harry’s back as the teenager’s fingers speared into the soft raven hair of his mate.

Heated kisses and the wordless summoning of a vial were all Harry needed, as he used his caressing fingers to oil the Slytherin’s erection and impaled himself slowly on it. With a groan, the older wizard turned them in the bed and pushed himself up so that he could see his husband’s face, setting a pounding rhythm that took them both to the edge and pushed them over with blinding force. Each man swore he saw a flash of light. Severus sank down on top of the gasping teen, and neither of them moved until the furious thumping of their hearts slowed. 

A shooting star fell from the tip of the Hunter’s shield, and the centaurs gasped as they turned to see a silvery-white unicorn, his long slender horn and golden hoofs gleaming in the faint light of the crescent moon. The unicorn, on the cusp of adulthood, gazed at them solemnly with eyes the color of newborn grass. The centaurs parted to allow him to continue on his journey towards the edge of the forest closest to the castle. Knowing now where their true alliance would lay in the coming conflict, the group watched in silence as the creature passed, then melted soundlessly back into the Forest.

Harry awoke the next morning wrapped securely in his husband’s arms, and wondered if he had dreamed their lovemaking. A slight ache in his nether regions confirmed his suspicions and brought a smile to his face. With a groan and a stretch, making sure his body rubbed against the length of Severus’, Harry forced himself out of bed and into the shower. Severus joined him a moment later, a small smile on his face. Taking the flannel from the younger man, he washed him briskly. Harry returned the favor, making his husband bend his head forward to thoroughly shampoo the long black hair. 

As they dressed and joined the other teachers in the Great Hall, Harry found that his sore muscles were not limited to his backside; in fact, his whole body felt like it had been over-taxed. Eating quickly, he made his way out into the Entrance Hall before anyone else was done, where he spent ten minutes doing a series of stretching exercises. Severus stepped out of the Great Hall to watch, concerned at the discomfort Harry was feeling, and held a small vial out to him. Summoning it with an absent thought, Harry had to dive to the floor when the vial flew at him with the speed of a bludger and smashed into the far wall. Severus was instantly by his side.

“What in the bloody hell was that?” he asked as he got to his feet.

Albus Dumbledore materialized beside the pair, and swept his wand over the young man. “How are you feeling this morning, Harry?”

Harry blinked at him, before narrowing his eyes as he caught the twinkle directed at him. “Fine, sir, my muscles were just a little sore this morning, so I was trying to stretch them. Why?”

“Interesting alignment of starts last night, Harry, you didn’t happen to see it, did you?”

Harry exchanged a look with Severus. “No, sir, we were asleep in bed before midnight, actually.”

“I see,” the Headmaster said. “It seems that Venus and Mars aligned with Orion and specifically with Sirius last night, and just at the moment of their alignment, I felt a burst of magic pulse through the castle.” Dumbledore’s eyes never left his face. “It felt like the coming of age of a very powerful wizard, Harry, and it felt like your magic.”

An arm curved around his waist, as Severus stepped behind him and supported him. Swallowing to get past the sudden dryness in his throat, Harry leaned into his mate and allowed himself to be comforted through their bond. He remembered the surge of heat that had awakened him, and nodded slowly.

“Something did wake me up early this morning, sir, it…” He paused, at a loss to describe it. “A wave of fire or something seemed to hit me, and everything burned for an instant, but then it was gone.” 

Dumbledore nodded slowly, the blue eyes intense as they studied Harry’s face. “I would be willing to wager that your magic is a good bit stronger this morning, Harry, as the flight of that vial of potion would attest.” He waved his hand at the mess and it was gone. “Come, let us put that new power to work, my boy.”

It was as if Harry could feel his magic now as a living part of him, and he learned as he helped with the warding that it was indeed more power than he was used to. With Severus’ guidance and reassurance, Harry managed to help erect the strongest wards that the school had enjoyed in a long time. Feeling tired, but filled with a sense of accomplishment, Harry laid down for a nap. He was looking forward to having dinner with Ron and Hermione that evening to go over something the witch had found in her research. Something that had excited her immensely, according to the note Pigwidgeon had delivered. As he slid into sleep, Harry wondered what it might be.


	11. Another Prophecy

Severus sat gingerly on the side of the bed, looking down at his sleeping mate. Harry had grown over the past two months, physically, emotionally, and magically, he thought, threading his long fingers through the mop of silky hair. The increase in the strength of his own magic overnight, a benefit of the bond he shared with the younger wizard, had surprised him. Albus believed that Harry had come into his full magical heritage the previous night, and Severus was inclined to agree. Unfortunately, this meant that they had only a few days to refine their control with the stronger magic before the castle was filled with returning students and staff. Severus was sure that his level of power had not increased beyond what he could easily control; he simply needed to be more cognizant of it. Harry’s power and magical abilities, however, had increased ten-fold, surpassing even Albus’ as they had worked together to ward the castle.

“Sev’rus?” Harry’s sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts. Severus leaned down to gently kiss his young husband in response.

“It is time to get up, if you wish to take a shower before our guests arrive.”

Harry stretched, arching his back in feline stretch as his mate continued to stroke a hand through his hair. Sitting up, Harry leaned against the older wizard, tucking his face in the slender column of his neck and planting a kiss under his ear before nibbling on his earlobe. He smiled at the shiver that ran through Severus, who pulled him away, kissed him hard, and stood up.

“Come along, brat, into the shower.”

Harry grinned at Severus’ back as he climbed out of bed, his lithe body golden in the late afternoon sunlight that filtered in from the magical window. He quickly showered and dressed in trousers and a pullover shirt. As he stepped out into the sitting room, he could see that the small dining table had been enlarged enough to comfortably seat four. A wonderful smell of garlic and herbs mingling caught his nose and made him salivate, and Harry realized that he was very hungry. 

Severus Snape stood in front of a small bubbling cauldron, stirring it with the same precision he used to brew the most complicated potions, another cauldron of boiling water stood nearby. Harry slid his arms around the trim waist. Leaning to one side, Harry sniffed appreciatively, one hand snaking out toward the fragrant mixture. Without a glance at him, his husband smacked his hand and continued to stir. 

“Make yourself useful, your grace, and set the table,” the Potions master told him.

Pressing a kiss to the older man’s cheek, Harry turned to a small cupboard and took out a stack of plates. He hummed to himself as he moved around the table, setting four places. A feeling of warmth seemed to radiate from his chest, and he could almost feel his magic flowing through his body. The increase in the strength of his magic was incredible and a bit intimidating, his control of it tenuous at best at the moment. Remembering a few of the instances when he had let his anger get the better of him, the incident with his Aunt Marge coming immediately to mind, Harry knew that he had to get used to the new magic as soon as possible. It would not do to accidentally hurt someone with a high-powered jinx in the middle of class.

The fireplace flared green for a moment, and Harry looked up in time to see Hermione step away from the hearth. Dressed casually in blue jeans and a pink blouse, she smiled as she saw him and threw her arms around him in a hug. The fire flared again and Ron tumbled out, regaining his balance as Severus stepped out of the small kitchenette to greet them. Hermione pushed Harry back to arms’ length and frowned at him.

“Something has happened, your magic feels…different, somehow.”

Harry kissed her check. “It’s nice to see you too, Hermione.”

“Harry…” Hermione started again as Ron stepped forward to clap Harry on the shoulder.

“Let us eat first, Miss Granger, and then we will address the new developments,” Severus said as he levitated several serving bowls on to the table. 

“Excellent idea, Professor, I am starving!” Ron announced with a grin, for once at ease with the Potions master.

“You are always hungry, Ronald!” Hermione said with a sniff, moving to the chair Harry indicated.

Dinner was a rather quiet affair; the only unusual thing was that Harry found himself eating almost as much as Ron did, amazing himself. He heard Hermione and Severus speaking quietly about her research and listened more carefully.

“…as I went through the journal, I found several other references and prophecies that could have been made about Voldemort, but then again, they may have also pertained to a number of dark wizards who have arisen in the past millennium. There is one that I believe goes along with the one you and Harry found the day you went to the vault, though, so I brought that.”

His husband nodded and glanced at Harry, reassurance filtering through their bond, and he pushed his plate away. Ron finally seemed finished as well, and they all pitched in to clear the table, then Severus set the dishes to cleaning themselves. Gathering the prepared tea tray, they all made their way into the sitting room. A knock on the door heralded the arrival of the Headmaster, who joined them after exchanging greetings with Ron and Hermione. The two teens settled into the chairs as Harry sat next to Severus on the sofa; Dumbledore conjured himself a squashy chintz armchair. 

“Are you going to tell us now what has happened to Harry, sir?” Hermione was nothing if not persistent, glanced from the Headmaster to the bound pair.

“We believe Harry came into his full magical ability last night,” Albus Dumbledore told them. “This, of course, is something that we need to keep quiet, but I am sure Harry would be glad of whatever assistance you might be able to provide him as he gets his power stabilized.”

The two teenagers nodded, eyeing him as if they expected to see a visible difference in him. Harry smiled and returned their glances with a shrug of his shoulders, trying to convey that he hadn’t changed in any way his friends might care about. Severus tugged his mate closer protectively, knowing that the last thing Harry wanted was to feel different again. Taking the comfort offered, the teenager settled back against the Slytherin and summoned a tea cake off the tray with a wave of his hand. The cake slammed into his palm and disintegrated into a shower of crumbs, which Severus banished with a snort.

“As I said, Harry just needs to readjust to his new power levels.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend. “I guess that must be it, Harry, I must be feeling the difference in your magic. It just seemed like you were,” she waved a hand at him, “I don’t know, glowing or something!”

It was Harry’s turn to snort, and the gleam in his eye turned devilish. “Oh, well that’s just…”

Severus kept the hand over his husband’s mouth, feeling the mischievous retort that was fighting to burst forth from that orifice, and addressed the witch, ignoring the tongue sweeping his palm. “You mentioned another prophecy from Merlin’s journal, Hermione?”

The bushy-haired young woman smiled at the interplay between the two. “Yes, this one is in more archaic old English, further back in the journal. I have translated it the best I can.”

She took a scroll from her back pocket and carefully unrolled it, smoothing it flat before handing it to the Potions master.

 _…flower of the dead protects from the grave…the Dog Star keeps watch…one chosen will not chose, his soul bound forcefully, dark serpent unites…Orion will anchor the trio of power…_

“It mentions the trio again,” Harry said, pulling the hand away from his mouth, and looked at the Headmaster. “Do you think that means you, Severus, and me?”

“No, Harry, I am not sure what the reference is, actually,” Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“The flower of death is a lily,” Severus tightened his hold fractionally on the younger wizard.

“And Sirius is the Dog Star,” Harry added quietly looking at his hands, a twinge of grief contracting the muscles of his heart.

Hermione looked hesitantly at the pair, and Severus knew she had figured out more, and nodded at her to continue. “You are soul mates, but you did not choose to be bonded, Voldemort took that choice away from you.”

“…one chosen…” Harry muttered, looking up at her. “Yes, that makes sense. All of it makes sense if we have the right answers: Mum, Sirius, and our being bound by Voldemort.”

Dumbledore leaned forward, a thoughtful look on his face. “Orion is the constellation that Sirius is part of, and the hunter, Orion faces down Taurus the bull, with his two dogs, a trio.”

“So,” Ron spoke for the first time, “all you have to do is find a bloke by the name of Orion, and he will be the third of your trio.”

Every eye in the room turned to the gangly teenager, whose face flushed as red as his hair when he realized this. The Headmaster looked thoughtful, as did Hermione; Harry could all but feel Severus roll his eyes, and he bit his lip to stifle a laugh. Leave it to Ron to try and kid around, he thought, giving his best friend a smile when he could catch his eye. The conversation started up again, but Harry let it flow around him, the weariness from earlier returning. While he was very proud of the fact that he had participated in the casting of strong protective fields around Hogwarts, the energy drain had been immense. He snuggled into Severus’ side, leaned his head against the warm shoulder there, and smiled as his eyes drifted closed.

Hermione watched him with worried eyes, and Severus shifted the younger man to a more comfortable position, continuing his conversation with the Headmaster without pause. The discussion shifted to training the next day, and arrangements were made for Hermione to come the next morning to participate. Eventually, their guests bid him good night, but the Potions master remained seated on the couch, his husband nestled against him. This latest prophecy from Merlin was as confusing as the first, with parts of it clearly indicating that it applied to the two of them, but the continued reference to a third member of their ‘trio’ concerned him. Was it possible that someone would try to come between them? Severus scowled at the thought. 

Harry awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and rested, securely entwined in Severus’ arms. Very carefully, he extracted himself and slid out of bed, padding barefoot through to the kitchen to start some tea. Detouring to the bathroom for a quick wash-up, Harry took the tea back into the bedroom. He set it down on the bedside table and crawled back into bed. Severus twitched in his sleep as the teenager snuggled his now cool flesh against the length of the Potions master. Carefully casting a warming charm on his hands wandlessly, Harry stroked his fingers through the older man’s hair, his face nestled in the hollow of the slender column of neck.

With a smile, Severus stirred and reached out to wrap his arms around his mate. Sighing, Harry luxuriated in the warm embrace, knowing that for the first time in his memory he was truly loved. It was an emotion that surpassed anything he had ever felt. The bond between the pair fairly hummed with the depth of feeling they shared, and both smiled. Lifting his head, Harry was rewarded with a deep kiss, and he let his hands roam down the well-developed chest, slipping a thigh between the older man’s legs.

A knock at the door curtailed their activities, and it was a scowling Potions master in a dark green dressing gown who yanked open the door to their quarters a moment later, startling Hermione Granger as she raised her hand to knock again. A pink-cheeked Harry appeared and ushered her into the sitting area, giving Severus time to get dressed. After a quick fire-call, a house-elf appeared with breakfast, and the three of them sat down to discuss what they were going to concentrate on for the day.

By mid-afternoon, Harry had found that he had the best control of his magic when he used it wandlessly. Focusing his considerable power through his wand seemed to concentrate it too much, although Harry found if he paid close enough attention he could control the power he needed to put into the spell. While he had always been able to ‘feel’ the magic within him, now he could truly feel it as it left his hand, and channeling it through his wand seemed to lessen his sensitivity. 

Listening to him describe this, Hermione led both wizards out of the classroom they were using to practice and had them sit down on the soft rug in front of the fireplace in their chambers. Darkening the enchanted windows, she sat with them as she explained a Muggle meditation technique that turned one's focus inside their own bodies.

“I want you to relax, clear your mind. Picture yourself in a green mountain meadow with a soft breeze stirring the grass, or on a white sandy beach with the waves lapping peacefully at the shoreline. Go to a peaceful place, where you feel safe and completely relaxed.”

Hermione continued to speak in a quiet, reassuring voice as she led them both through the complete relaxation of their bodies. As Harry slowly achieved that, he was able to direct his focus inward, sinking into himself in such a manner that he was able to see the flow of his magic through his body. Marveling at the golden strands that pulsed through him like the blood in his veins, he traced it back to the center of his chest, where he found a golden, pulsating ball of magic, shot through with red overtones and with silver strands. This, he realized, was his magical core. With a feeling of awe, Harry watched the individual strands of magic swirl and pulse, flowing in and out of the core. 

Following the flow of energy as it spread out from the pulsating core, Harry was surprised to find a small, flickering nodule of golden and silver magic lodged in his abdomen just below his stomach. He looked closer and saw that this small ball of magical energy had his magic strands in it, as well as unfamiliar strands of green magic. An uneasy feeling washed over Harry as he remembered a neighbor of the Dursleys who had died after a cancerous tumor was found in her lung. The nodule pulsed with life, and Harry found he was not repulsed by it, but frightened by what it might be. 

The sudden change in mood pulled him from his inner reflections and back to his outside consciousness. Opening his eyes slowly, he saw that Severus and Hermione were sitting so still that they appeared to be sleeping, and he resisted moving, afraid it might disrupt them. Diverting his wayward thoughts from the direction they seemed to be going, Harry cleared his mind, determined not to upset his husband with wild supposition. Whatever the ball of energy was, it was very small, he reasoned, and he could do this Muggle meditation every day to check on it if he needed to. If it grew bigger, he would go see Madam Pomfrey.

Gazing at the relaxed face of his lover, Harry was once again struck by the changes he saw in the features. The cold bastard of a Potions master from his early years at Hogwarts was barely visible in the warm, angular face of his husband. The tension and stress of years of playing the role of Death Eater and a spy had ravaged the handsome features; Harry was delighted at the change Severus had undergone in the two and a half months since their forced bonding. Since their forced bonding and Harry’s dissolution of the Dark Mark that had bound him to Dark Lord, the older wizard had been able to once again become a warm, feeling human being. The gaunt cheeks and dark circles that were once the norm on his face had disappeared, his face had filled out, and the shadows that turned his eyes cold had vanished. Although Harry was sure the Head of Slytherin would still outrageously favor the students of his house, he also knew that it was a warmer, fairer professor who would start this term in two days, and Harry was proud to be at his side. 

Picking up his wand from where it lay beside him, Harry envisioned the strands of magic running through him, and flicked his wrist, whispering Wingardium Leviosa. The parchment on Severus’ desk in the corner of the room floated up and gently moved toward him as he moved his wand. He set it back down on the desk, then silently summoned a pillow from their bed. With a grin, Harry banished it back to the bedroom.

“Harry?” Hermione had opened her eyes and was looking at him questioningly.

“It’s okay, Hermione, I think your meditation did the trick. I can see my magic and I think I should be able to gauge my strength now,” he said softly, not wanting to disturb Severus.

The witch gave him a penetrating look. “And everything is fine? I mean, you were able to drop into the pathways of your magic and see that everything looked okay?” His best friend still had an anxious look about her, as if she could read his thoughts or wasn’t convinced by his brief answers.

Occluding his mind quickly, Harry brought his eyes up to meet the warm, concerned brown eyes. He had known since he had learned of the Prophecy that he would probably die young, and had resolved himself to his fate. A cancerous tumor would never have a chance to grow large enough to kill him; he would be dead long before that, and he was not going to upset Hermione or anyone else with what he had found.

“Everything is just fine, Hermione, just fine,” Harry told her with a reassuring smile.


	12. Beware of Secrets

Standing at the top of the front steps leading up to the Entrance Hall, Harry smoothed the front of his robes for the fourth time in ten minutes. Severus reached down and captured his husband’s restless left hand, and entwined their fingers. 

The last three days had been devoted to the mastery of their increased magic, learning how to incorporating it in their everyday use of magic. It had taken Severus several attempts at preparing a delicate potion before he was able to judge how to calibrate the magic he used in brewing. The men had trained together each morning, starting with their meditation, in addition to spending most of the afternoon and evening in more specialized training. Harry had been closeted with Albus, learning how to utilize his wandless abilities. He had been dueling with a select few Order members as well. The couple had found themselves tumbling into bed the last few nights, too worn out to do anything but hold each other as they fell into an exhausted sleep.

Feeling the warm flow of love through the bond they shared, Harry smiled at his mate, basking in the contentment they both felt. Neither of them would be truly happy or at peace until the Dark Lord was dead. The twilight dimmed, fading to darkness; shortly after that the first carriage lights appeared at the foot of the driveway, and the thestral-drawn carriages came into sight. A wave of relief swept over him and the fingers warming his tightened a fraction.

 _‘They would have let us know if there was a problem, love._ ’ Severus chided him gently through the bond.

Ron and Hermione had been in the castle that morning for the Occlumency lessons that the couple had requested since being included in the secret of Merlin’s Vault; however, both students had insisted on riding the Hogwarts Express with the other returning students. A squad of Aurors, paired with various members of the Order of the Phoenix, had also been on the train to provide added security, and the _Daily Prophet_ had featured the headline this morning that Harry was already in residence at Hogwarts. The information had been leaked through Rita Skeeter in hopes of deterring any planned attack on the train. It was a comfort to Harry that there seemed to have been no incident.

The couple had spent the afternoon at Gringotts, examining the contents of Godric Gryffindor’s vault. Although smaller than Merlin’s, the vault held many artifacts from the Founder’s life, in addition to the contributions of his many descendents over the ensuing millennium. There were suits of armor, shields of pure gold, and weaponry of many types, along with the personal journals and documents that had been important to Gryffindor during his life. Under any other circumstances, the items that had been preserved in pristine condition inside the vault would have fascinated Harry, but he was discouraged by their failure to unearth any artifacts that would help them with the problem of defeating Voldemort.

Harry had removed one slim journal that had flown into his hands when he and Severus had crossed the threshold of the vault, along with a pair of personal daggers that had also presented themselves to the pair during their search. Albus Dumbledore had recognized them as having belonged to the Lady of the Lake; they had been her wedding gift to the son who had become the progenitor of the Gryffindor line. Harry could feel the protective magic pulsing within the daggers, and he immediately gave one to Severus, attaching the other to his own belt. The daggers had disappeared as soon as they were hung in place, visible only the two wizards wearing them.

The first carriage came to a halt by the stairs, and Harry watched as several impossibly young-looking second years stumbled out, trying to look superior since they were no longer first years. It took every bit of his control not to snicker as the group of young Hufflepuffs sauntered by, giving the scowling Potions master a wide berth.

“You enjoy terrifying them, Sev,” he chided his mate with a small smile.

“Of course,” the taller wizard replied, his dark scowl still in place. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

Harry rolled his eyes, his nervousness forgotten as he laughed, and Severus smiled at the rich sound. Just then, the two Weasleys and Hermione Granger flew up the stairs. Hugging and kissing his husband, they swept him away with them, heading for the Great Hall, full of the news that Hermione and Draco had been named Head Girl and Head Boy. The rest of the students came barreling past him, children of all shapes and sizes, instantly raising the noise level, making it pound against his eardrums painfully. Severus followed at a slower pace, his smile fading as he felt a slight wave of unease and fear flow through his bond to Harry. Frowning, he moved to his place at the Head table and stood behind his chair, his dark eyes sweeping the rapidly filling Hall.

Harry was sitting at the end of the Gryffindor Table closest to the front, the area usually occupied by the seventh year students, with Hermione at his side and Ronald Weasley across the table from him. Lined up down the table were members of the DA group that Harry had formed in his fifth year, and who were now trained at a level to rival an Auror. For a moment he smirked: that didn’t say much for the Ministry’s training standards. But he had to admit to their abilities. Their preparedness and skill had been instrumental in protecting other students when he and Harry were captured in Hogsmeade, and Severus knew he could rely on these students to keep watch over his husband during the day, when they were separated by their respective classes. The tousled head of raven hair was thrown back in laughter as the young man in question responded to something Ginny Weasley had said. As if feeling the weight of Severus’ gaze, those sparkling eyes sought his out, and the Potions Master sent him a wave of love as their eyes met.

They had come a long way in the short months since their forced bonding, through some of the most difficult times, and definitely the most joyous times in his life. They had grown together, both in their magic, their knowledge of each other, and their love, Severus acknowledged silently. The hat sang and the first years were Sorted into Houses. He clapped politely, lost in his thoughts of what kind of life he and Harry might have if they survived this war. If anything were to happen to Harry, Severus knew that he, too, would perish. The draw of their deep bond and the love he felt would take him anywhere his young husband went, even into the great beyond. 

Dinner appeared; Severus ate mechanically, not tasting a thing he put in this mouth, his apprehension of that tiny thread of fear in their bond growing as it remained, unwavering. His eyes continued to drift back to Harry, even as he tried to pay attention to the Headmaster’s latest speech about tolerance and unity among the Houses. When the students were dismissed, Severus stood and watched the ordered chaos as new prefects herded their first years forward like a gaggle of ducklings. The older students took off en mass, the noise level once more rising as they all exchanged greeting and news from their summer holidays. Making sure all the students had managed to exit the room, Severus swept out into the Entrance Hall, his robes billowing behind him as he made his way toward the Slytherin common room and his annual start of term speech.

hpsshpsshpss

Leaving his friends at the bottom of the marble staircase, Harry headed down to the dungeons, knowing that Severus had duties to perform. He had been glad to see all his friends back safe from their summer hols and to have the chance to catch up, but now he sought peace and quiet. The welcoming warmth of their chambers enveloped Harry as he stepped through the door, and he immediately changed out of his school robes into a pair of sleep pants and t-shirt. Leaning over Severus’ desk, Harry double-checked that he had everything he needed in his book bag in preparation for morning.

Satisfied, he straightened up and had turned when a wave of dizziness hit him and black spots appeared in his field of vision. Gripping the edge of the desk, Harry lowered himself to the floor and hung his head between his knees. A hand seemed to move of its own accord and pressed against his abdomen, where he knew the nodule of magic rested. The dizziness passed quickly, and Harry gingerly got to his feet, moving slowly toward the bathroom. Once he was finished there he climbed into bed. Sliding between the soft sheets and curling up into a ball, Harry felt his shakiness abate, and his body settled back to normal. He knew that his husband would have been aware of the sudden dizzy feeling through their bond, so taking care to mask any lingering apprehension, and he debated what to tell him. In the end, he figured the truth would be best. Part of the truth, anyway.

“Harry?” There was concern coloring the voice that called out to him a few minutes later.  
“I’m in here, Sev,” he answered, turning over onto his back.

“What’s the matter? Are you not feeling well?” The obsidian eyes were bright with worry, and Harry offered a smile.

“I just stood up too fast a bit ago and got dizzy, love.” His smile turned sensual. “It gave me an excuse to lure you to bed early tonight.”

Those all-seeing jet eyes studied his face carefully, and Harry projected a mental picture through the bond guaranteed to distract the older man from his worry. 

“Brat,” the older man said affectionately, clearly not sidetracked from his original concern.

Severus began to unbutton his robes as he walked back into the sitting room, and Harry snuggled under the warm covers, his hand slipping down to the part of him that was rapidly becoming interested in the Potions master. The lights in the sitting room went out, then the tall man swept back into the bedroom, his robes hanging open. With an economy of motion, the robes were hung up, and the long, lean length of naked wizard slid in beside him, wrapping that glorious length around him. Harry lifted his face in a mute plea for a kiss, and Severus happily complied. 

“Love me, Severus, please.”

There was something needy in Harry’s plea, and Severus could only comply. He slid his fingers into the soft cap of raven hair, anchoring his mate’s head as he worshiped the sweetness of his lips. Harry responded by wrapping his arms around the slender neck and caressing the lean muscles of his shoulders. Turning them over, Severus settled between his husband’s muscular thighs, one hand stroking through the fine hair, and the other trailing down to cup a taunt arse cheek. A groan erupted from the younger man as their bodies aligned, and he began to thrust against the hard length press to his own aching erection.

A hiss of breath escaped from him, as he still the younger man’s hips with a firm hand. Severus ran his tongue over Harry’s swollen bottom lip, then trailed the tip along his jaw and down the column of his throat, sucking gently on his mate’s Adam’s apple until he sobbed with pleasure. Tasting and nipping, he made his way down the smooth chest, tracing the edge of the pectoral muscles, laving and suckling the flat dusky nipples, before trailing down the edge of Harry’s ribcage to tongue his navel in an intimate fashion. Two hands had become entwined in his long hair, gripping to the point of pain, and Severus sent a mental message to the young man writhing beneath him. The fingers loosened, and a small vial appeared in front of him.

With gentle fingers, Severus prepared his husband. Harry shifted accommodatingly when his legs were lifted, moaning when his body was breeched. When he fully sheathed, Severus was tugged down, and Harry worshipped his mouth with the same slow, forceful motions that the Slytherin was using to pleasure him. Combining magic pulsed along their skin and nerve endings. The deep love he was feeling through the bond overwhelmed Harry, and felt himself peak, tumbling over the precipice with a shout. The clenching muscles pulled Severus to the edge, and he followed his mate over.

“I love you, Severus,” he heard and felt the words whispered against the sweat-damp neck.

“And I love you, my Harry,” the older man managed, struggling to slow his breathing. When he could summon the energy, he rolled to the side, gathering his young husband to his chest.

hpsshpsshpss

The first two weeks of the term passed smoothly. Harry, with the help of his best friends and Draco, resumed the DA meetings immediately for students in fifth year and above. The increased Death Eater activities in the wizarding community at large had many of the upper year students wanting to learn to protect themselves and their families, and the extracurricular classes were better attended than ever. There would be a dueling club started for the younger years before Halloween, which various teachers had volunteered to teach.

Draco had taken the initiative with his housemates, and was quietly working to convince many of those Slytherins who opposed their family’s ties to Voldemort to take an active role against him. In addition to protection for each, there was a promise of sanctuary from their Head of House, and with Harry’s full support, Severus had started the house-elves to work on remodeling Snape Manor to house any student whose views differed from their families. This same message was passed by word of mouth to students in other Houses; Harry was astonished to find that, by the start of the third week of classes, fifteen names occupied that list, with every House represented. 

Severus and Harry had Apparated to the Manor the second Saturday of term to check on the progress. Harry was concerned about the memories that had seemed to swamp his husband. The older man was quiet as they made their way, hand in hand, through the many small rooms that were once the attic area. More normally-sized bedrooms were on the floor below, several with multiple beds, and the great rooms, kitchen, sitting and dining rooms on the ground floor. The basement was devoted to a large potions laboratory and a magical training room. Both men had agreed that any student in danger was welcome in this house, and planned to offer space to as many children as they could as an alternative to being forced into Voldemort’s service. It would also house a wing of rooms that members of the Order of the Phoenix could use as needed.

Information from their spy within the Death Eaters ranks hinted that Voldemort was planning to start terrorizing both the Muggle and magical world. Reports of strange disappearances filled the _Daily Prophet_ , along with the latest lists of Muggle-borns suspected killed by Death Eaters and sightings of the Dark Mark. The most loyal of the Dark Lord’s supporters had been meeting secretly for the past month, and the spy could not gain any information as to what they might be plotting. Likewise, Harry had not experienced a single vision or any pain in his scar for about the same period of time. The Headmaster believed Voldemort was employing Occlumency to keep Harry from learning his plans. Knowing better than anyone how the maniac’s mind worked, both Harry and Severus believed that this meant an attack was being planned on Hogwarts. Dumbledore agreed, and made the decision to cancel Hogsmeade weekends until further notice. All outdoor student activities were carefully monitored. 

Advanced training continued whenever there was an opportunity for Harry: lessons from Albus, dueling with select members of the Order, Occlumency with Ron and Hermione, and magical control with Severus. He tried his best to eat as he well as he could and to get enough sleep, but it was tough between classes, homework, training, and the DA. Severus rarely had any free time, either, with all his teaching and Head of House activities, not to mention the time he spent trying to dissuade his Slytherins from becoming Death Eaters. Both men tumbled into bed at night exhausted, but they made a point of getting up each morning to meditate and eat breakfast together in their chambers. Harry checked the tumor each morning when he dropped into his magical pathways during their meditations; it continued to grow at a steady rate, the nodule of magic pulsing and swirling. It had been almost a relief to Harry that his husband was too busy to notice, as he had experienced several more episodes of dizziness, all but one of these when he was alone. Hermione had been with him during a Transfigurations class when the room had spun, but put his distraction down to the lesson in progress.

With the dawning understanding that if he were to die, his beloved Severus would died as well, Harry had begun to search for a spell to sever their bond. Dumbledore had suggested to him years ago that it might have been a piece of Voldemort’s soul that created Harry’s lightning bolt scar, and connecting him with the evil wizard. Harry had found an ancient spell, a Parseltongue spell attributed to Salazar Slytherin himself that would dissolve any bond to a soul and then the soul itself. If Harry was correct, it would kill him when the piece of Riddle that was lodged in his scar was destroyed. It was with a heavy heart that he memorized the Latin preamble to the bond-splitting spell. He might be dying, but Harry was not going to condemn his husband to an early death, especially if he were to free the world of the Dark Lord. 

At the close of the third week of school, the Gryffindor Quidditch team tryouts were held, and Harry insisted on trying out just like the rest of the team. Team captain Ron Weasley smirked as he sent his best friend flying after the golden winged ball and had two of the Beater hopefuls hit Bludgers at him. Flying for the first time in ages, Harry exulted in the feeling of the wind rushing through his hair as he soared high over the pitch, his eyes scanning the area, never stopping. His dive through the center ring of his own goal to catch his fluttering quarry was spectacular, but Harry never noticed the others watching as he sailed toward the group of Gryffindors by the stands. 

Dismounting his broom as he landed, Harry was surprised when a Hufflepuff fifth year he thought was vaguely familiar came sprinting around the corner and ran up to him, his face red from exertion.

“Harry! They…come get…you…accident in potions…Snape…” the boy dropped to his knees, breathing hard.

Harry dropped his broom and ran, his heart clenching at the thought of Severus being hurt. Without thought, he ran in the direction the young wizard indicated, Ron and half the Quidditch hopefuls behind him. This took them around the far side of the pitch, circling back toward the changing rooms and a little-known back entrance into the castle.

‘ _Severus! Severus!’_

 _‘Harry? What is it?’_

 _‘A Hufflepuff fifth year says there’s been an accident in the classroom._ ’ Harry slowed to a jog.

‘ _And I was just summoned by a prefect for an accident in the Slytherin common room. I am fine, and cannot help but think this is a trap. Be careful, love!’_

 _‘Yes, you be careful as well!_ ’ 

Harry gestured at Ron, who leaned over to hear his whisper. “Severus is fine, but thinks this is a trap, will you summon the rest of the DA with your coin, please?”

“Certainly,” the tall redhead replied. He slowed, falling behind the rest of the group, pulling the fake galleon out of his pocket and tapping it with his wand.

Jogging on, gradually slowing his pace, forcing the Hufflepuff to turn around repeatedly, Harry made his way across the open expanse of lawn, along the edge of the Forbidden Forest in a round-about way to the path leading up to the castle. Glancing suspiciously toward the shadowy section of heavily thicketed woods they would have to pass, Harry was sure his saw movement in the shadowy depths. Angling away from the copse of trees, he saw he was correct as several black-robed figures suddenly moved into view. Knowing that these had to be students or the protective fields would not have allowed them to enter the grounds, Harry began to throw simple hexes at them, which the sneering figures easily dodged. The unmasked faces were all familiar to one degree or another; Harry recognizing a number of upper year Slytherins, Theodore Nott the most prominent among them. A large group of others were younger students of various Houses were there as well, sporting confident sneers that seemed out of place on their young faces.

The attackers moved out of the trees, immediately beginning to throw curses and hexes at Harry and the Gryffindors who flanked him. Harry knew immediately by the darkness and the strength of the magic that these were not the students they appeared to be. Throwing up a protective field around the group, Harry began to duel in earnest, his wand flashing with silent spells and binding curses aimed at the pseudo-students. It seemed an endless stream of figures moved out of the trees, each wearing the face of a Hogwarts student, outnumbering the defenders three to one. The members of the DA fought brilliantly, following Harry’s lead and not pulling their magic in the face of what looked like a group of third and fourth years. They operated as a team, protecting each other as they fended off the approaching group, and had gained the upper hand when the scar on Harry’s forehead seared with white-hot pain. Harry’s eyes darted toward the dark grove of trees just outside of Hogwarts’ protective shield. 

A tall, skeletally thin figure draped in black robes stepped out of the shadows of the Forest, its crimson eyes the only features visible underneath the hood of the cloak. With his stomach dropping to his feet only to rebound and choke him, Harry knew this was it, the moment he had been destined for. The DA and their attackers had moved their battle several yards away, and Harry straightened as he saw Voldemort standing on the other side of the shimmering protective barrier. Knowing the wards would not stop the Killing Curse, Harry sealed his mind. His thoughts solely on the love he felt for his friends and his bond mate, he began to softly chant the Latin he had memorized, and he watched as the Dark Lord raised his wand.

“NO!” 

The harsh word was bit out savagely next to him, and Harry did not have time to turn before Severus moved between him and the figure in the Forest, a hand shooting out to roughly push him to the ground. The unexpected fall knocked the wind out of him; stunned, his head splitting with pain, Harry could only lie there as Albus Dumbledore stepped over him to join his Potions master in dueling Voldemort. With the element of surprise gone and most of his child-sized attack force already out of the fight, the evil wizard Apparated away, leaving his forces behind, Stunned and magically bounded by a group of students. 

Harry could hear the members of the DA cheering in jubilation, but he was not in the mood to celebrate. He had looked up into hard black eyes that glittered with cold fury. Rage vibrated through their bond, and Harry shrunk back as his husband advanced on him. Ron threw Severus a questioning look as Harry made no attempt to stand. Reaching down to help Harry to his feet, Ron steadied the shorter teen when he swayed slightly. He struggled to overcome waves of pain and dizziness, finally shaking off the supporting arm when he felt steady enough to stand on his own.

“Potter!” Professor Snape had replaced his beloved husband, and, overwhelmed by sorrow and remorse, Harry could only follow him silently back into the castle. 

Severus seethed as he stormed into the Entrance Hall, having waved off his mentor and friend, who knew him well enough to hold everyone concerned about Harry at bay. The Potions master had heard enough of the beginning of the spell to know that it would have severed their bond and most probably killed his husband. All in a misguided effort to kill the Dark Lord without any regard for Severus. He had to work to hold onto his anger; he could feel the anguish and despair flowing from Harry, and he knew that something was not as it seemed. A shiver of dread raced down his spine as he remembered the odd undercurrent of fear that Harry had been projecting in the past few weeks. 

Knowing that he was walking much faster than the younger wizard, Severus pushed through the door into their quarters and stood waiting in front of the unlit fireplace. He sealed off the Floo connection with a wave of his hand and put an Imperturbable spell on the magical windows as well. It was still several long minutes of waiting before Harry dragged himself through the door, and moved to stand across the room from him. Frowning as he took in the impossibly white face and trembling figure, he whipped his anger into a frenzy again, stalking toward the youth.

“What in the bloody hell do you think you were doing? Did you give any thought at all to what I might think of you using such a spell, Potter? Do you know what it would have done to me had you been killed?” Severus roared at him, the part of him that had been scared to death coming forth.

Harry looked up, not caring at that moment if unmasculine tears shimmered in his eyes. He backed up until he could lean against the wall to brace his nerveless legs, which were threatening to stop supporting him. 

“I just wanted to keep you safe…piece of his soul in my scar…I didn’t want you to have to die, too…” his voice trailed off, his throat constricting at the thought.

Severus crowded him, leaning in to ground out between his teeth. “Did you ever stop to consider whether I would even want to live if you should perish? And what right do you have to sacrifice yourself in true Gryffindor fashion, after all the work and training we have done to keep you ALIVE?”

The time had come, Harry thought in defeat, knowing it was unavoidable now. “I am dying, Severus, it didn’t seem to matter anymore whether I stayed alive, but how to keep you from dying with me.” 

His legs gave out, and Harry sunk to the floor, the tears he had managed to keep at bay for so many weeks slipping silently down his face. 

“What are you talking about?” The voice was toned down, and held an edge of apprehension to it.

“I…I have a cancerous tumor growing in me…nothing we can do…” The soft voice was tortured. “I love you and didn’t want…”

His voice shut down, and all Harry could do was to curl himself into a ball like the pulsing mass growing inside him, clinging tightly to what little composure he had, the sobs trapped in his chest cutting him with brutal pain in their desire to be released. This was where Severus would snarl at him and put as much distance between them as he could, this was where he would announce he hated Harry for not telling him, for succumbing to something as mundane as a Muggle disease. Drawing his legs up to his chest, reverting to the abused boy he had been, Harry made himself as small as possible, cramming a fist into his mouth to stifle any noise he might inadvertently make, and began to rock slightly, wishing for the concealing darkness of his cupboard. 

A hand touched his shoulder, and Harry flinched, not sure what to expect. It certainly was not to be swept up in strong arms and settled into his beloved’s lap, to feel a hand stroking softly through his hair. The gentleness unbalanced him, and Harry turned into the warmth, burying his face in the stiff, scratchy teaching robes, and allowed everything he’d been holding inside for almost a month to pour out of him. Only the murmur of a soft voice and a gentle hand carding through his hair grounded him.

Severus tightened his arms as Harry continued to cry with heartbreaking sobs that wracked the slender figure. He knew there had been something bothering his young soul mate, but the start of term had been so busy with students, classes, and detentions that he had pushed his uneasiness to the back of his mind. He had forgotten that Harry had been emotionally abused and had experienced precious little kindness from the Muggles who had raised him, and that he would not know how to verbalize his need for comfort or reassurance. It seem Harry had learned to be good at giving those things, but still harbored deep-rooted insecurities about himself and his right to receive them. Added to that was the fact he had probably never learned that the magical population did not suffer from the chaos of the body that caused cancer in Muggles; their magic protected them even at the cellular level.

The maelstrom of whirling emotions finally played itself out, and Harry found himself feeling limp and wrung out when he calmed enough to try to open his swollen eyes. Severus helped him sit up, never letting go of him, and tilted his face up to gently kiss his forehead. Settling himself more comfortably against his husband’s shoulder, Harry gingerly explored the bond. There was residual anger, sorrow, and a feeling of confusion, and he turned stinging eyes up to meet the obsidian ones studying his face.

“We will be having a serious discussion, Harry, about some of the things that seem to be lodged in that head of yours, and why you would keep something so serious from me. First, I want to know what you are calling a tumor.” Severus’ voice was soft, and his hand cradled the back of Harry’s head as he spoke, a thumb brushing through his hair. 

“When I meditated for the first time, and dropped into my magical core, I followed the ribbons of magic and found a ball of magic growing inside me, Severus,” Harry explained, a sob crawling up his throat.

Severus shushed him gently, rocking the teen until he was calm again.

“First, know that witches and wizards do not get cancer, love. Take me there, Harry, show me what it is you found.”

Opening their bond and dropping all their shields, the older man embraced his husband as they meditated together, and Harry took him into his glowing magical core. Following the tendrils of magic, Severus followed the strands as they led to a pulsing nodule of magic, the gold, silver, and a few emerald vines of pure energy entwined to form a small ball about the size of a galleon. He studied it for a moment, fascinated by the sight, when he realized with a gasp what they were looking at. Pulling back gently, he emerged from their meditation with his emotions in almost as much turmoil as they had been when he had run across the lawns to hear the foul spell Harry was chanting. 

Once more aware of their surroundings, Severus buried his face in the soft, raven hair of his husband. He did not even seem aware of the tears that he shed, which were dampening the younger man’s hair.

“Severus?” Harry’s voice was soft with concern. “What is it?”

Tilting the beloved face up with a finger under his chin, Severus gazed down into eyes the same shade as the strand of magic he’d just seen.

“That tumor, my love, is our son,” and Severus kissed him with all the love coursing through him.


	13. Truths

“Our son?” Harry blinked up at his husband, his swollen eyes stinging from his crying jag.

To Severus Snape, Harry was the most beautiful thing in the world, despite his idiotic Gryffindor tendencies. Brushing a hand through the silky soft hair, the soon-to-be father picked up one of his young husband’s hands and laid it across the still flat abdomen, covering it with his own trembling hand.

“Remember the second prophecy of Merlin, love, the one about Orion anchoring the trio of power?” Harry nodded slowly, fear still apparent in his eyes. “The ball of magic you saw, I believe that is our child, Harry. I think the night you came into your full magic, we created a new life, the Orion of the prophecy.”

The emerald eyes blinked at him a couple of times before the words finally sank in. “It’s a baby? You mean, I’m…pregnant?”

Tilting the dark head back against his shoulder, Severus kissed him softly. “Yes, foolish Gryffindor, you are pregnant, not dying!” Leaning in, the Slytherin kissed him hungrily. The emotional roller coaster of the day had left them both on edge and feeling needy.

Wrapping his arms around his husband’s neck, Harry gave himself up eagerly to the kiss, even as happy tears slid silently down his face. It was not a tumor, and not only was he not dying, but he was going to have a baby! A tiny little being that was part him and part Severus, someone who would love him and depend on him for everything. A baby he could love and take care of the way he had always dreamed of being taken care of as a child. He would do the things with his child that he’d never been allowed to do. There would be no locking his baby into a cupboard or beating him for any reason! They would hold him and kiss him, and tell him every day how much he was loved! He did not realize that he had started to sob silently, until his mate pulled away from his lips to rest his forehead against Harry’s. 

 

As delighted as he was with the end result, Severus was still very upset about the spell Harry had learned, and he knew it had to be discussed before the inevitable interruptions from the concerned Headmaster. Feeling the swirl of awe, relief, and delight now emanating from his young husband, the Slytherin tightened his arm around Harry’s waist, letting his tears and sobs abate before speaking.

“I want you to promise me, Harry, that you will never try anything like that spell again.” He locked his eyes with the liquid green pools, deadly serious. “We are not only soul-bonded, but married and life partners. I understand that you thought it would be for the best, but you took away my choice in the matter, and you had no right to do that.” 

Tears welled up again and fell silently in streams down the younger man’s face at the censure in his voice. Severus felt the anger rise again in his chest and knew that Harry could feel that as well. “You know how you felt when I closed off our bond at first, thinking I knew what was best for you, and that was at least temporary, Harry! You were willing to sacrifice both of us without even knowing if it would work!”

Severus closed his eyes and reached deep inside himself for the calmness he needed, as the weight of what his husband had almost done bore down on him. “Regardless of what happens in the future, Harry, you must promise me you will never attempt to do anything to our bond, even if it means that we both die! Promise me!”

Opening his eyes, he was taken back by the sadness he saw in the emerald depths of Harry’s gaze.

“I promise, Severus, but you need to know that when Voldemort dies, there is every possibility that I will die, too,” Harry said softly. He had never spoken of the true connection he felt he shared with the Dark wizard aloud. “Dumbledore once told me that Voldemort had given me a piece of himself the night he tried to kill me in Godric’s Hollow. That is what gave me the ability to speak in Parseltongue, and this painful connection to his mind. I think this means that I have a piece of that bastard’s soul lodged in my head, and when I defeat him, destroying his soul so that he can never come back, I will probably kill myself as well. That was why I memorized that spell, Severus, I was trying to separate and destroy the pieces without hurting you too,”

“We will find another way, Harry! We have to, as I am not willing to sacrifice you or our child to the Dark Lord!” He was seething again, this time at the burdens this young man had carried for so many years, from the link to the Dark Lord to the prophecy placed on his shoulders in his fifth year. “Whatever solution we find, my love, we will do it together, without you acting on your foolish Gryffindor sense of honor and sacrifice! Do you understand me, Potter?”

Harry smiled tremulously through his tears at the biting tone, recognizing that the anger was no longer directed at him. Severus continued to hold him fiercely against his chest, the deep love coming clearly through the anger and fear in their bond. 

“Yes, Severus, I understand. I promise I will never try that again.”

There was a soft knock at the door, and Harry tightened his grip on his husband’s robes, unwilling to leave the security of his arms after the events of the day.

“Please,” he implored Severus in a whisper. “Can we keep the baby our secret, Severus, just for this weekend?”

The obsidian eyes studied the pale, tear-stained face, and a small smile curved his lips. Resettling the younger man across his lap, head tucked into Severus’ shoulder, he waved the door open. A concerned Albus Dumbledore stepped into the room, his bright blue eyes taking in the two as they sat on the couch.

“How is Harry, Severus?” 

“He has been better, Albus, but I think we have reached an agreement on the use of that particular Dark spell,” the Potions master dryly replied as Harry burrowed his face into the stiff teaching robes his mate wore. “He has also relayed to me an interesting theory concerning the true nature of the connection between the Dark Lord and the scar on his forehead.”

The aged wizard sat down in the wingback chair across from the sofa, the usual twinkle in his eye absent. “I would have to assume that Harry believes there is actually a piece of Voldemort’s essence, or a piece of his soul, for the lack of a better term, housed in his scar. I know this came up in a discussion with Harry after the Chamber of Secrets incident in his second year, but I had thought he was too young to assimilate that information, let alone remember it.”

Severus could see the sorrow in the tired blue eyes, and knew that Albus had not meant to keep it from his husband, but had hoped Harry would never make the connection between the tie he shared with the Dark Lord, the powers the bastard had transferred to him that night in Godric’s Hollow, and the apparent method of transfer. When the Killing Curse had rebounded on Voldemort, he would have been connected to Harry, and whatever part of him that spun off to lodge in Harry’s scar had most probably been spiritual, and unintended. Shifting slightly, adjusting their positions so that Harry’s weight was more evenly divided between sofa and his lap, his grip on his husband never wavering. 

“Albus, if what Harry believes is true, and he is connected with the Dark Lord to that extent, what will it do to him when he kills the bastard?” 

“I don’t know, Severus. I have always believed that the link is similar to the bond that made the Dark Mark possible, but as you said, this is an unexpected and unusual situation, and it will require additional research.”

Harry stirred in his arms, and Severus could feel that he was almost dozing; the events of the late afternoon had taken a lot out of the teenager. Pressing a kiss to the mop of hair, the older man stroked his slender fingers through the longer strands at the back of his husband’s head. Merlin, he thought, a husband and a son, how had he gotten so fortunate? Fierceness like nothing he had ever felt before welled up in him, and Severus turned eyes gleaming with black fire toward his friend and mentor, who sat watching him with shrewd eyes. 

“Then we shall start researching that immediately, Albus! I will ask Hermione and Draco to begin straight away, as they are two of the best in their respective areas!” The dark eyes allowed the older man to see some of the anger and anguish that still swirled inside him when he thought of the extent to which Harry had been willing to go to protect him, and felt a grudging appreciation as the bright blue eyes widened. “I do not ever want Harry to feel that he has to commit ritual suicide again due to this ‘link’!”

“I understand your concern, Severus, and we will find a way to eliminate the problem.” His eyes sad, the Headmaster continued, “We have other concerns about today’s skirmish.”

Harry stirred again, as the truth of what he’d seen that afternoon suddenly dawned on him. He had been nearly asleep, only half listening to the conversation up to this point, at ease with allow Severus to deal with what had happened. Now, he turned his head, freeing his face and tear-streaked glasses from where they had been pressed against Severus’ chest.

“Polyjuice Potion. The ‘students’ were Death Eaters who had used Polyjuice to get through the wards.”

Sitting up a bit straighter, not willing to loosen his grip on the Potions master, Harry turned his red, swollen eyes toward Professor Dumbledore, seeing the older wizard nod in agreement.

“Yes, Harry, I believe you are correct.” The blue eyes examined his face over the top of the half-moon spectacles.

Harry looked away, as he knew that his Occlumency skills were nowhere near as strong as Severus’ and the Headmaster had an uncommon knack of picking things out of his brain. Instead, he set his gaze to a point where he thought the wizard’s chin might reside under the flowing white bread.

“All of your attackers who were within the protective fields are still magically bound, and should begin to re-transform soon, if the Polyjuice is a normal mixture. There is also some thought that a few may be under the Imperius Curse, and the inevitable assumption that a few were actually acting of their own feel will.”

“How will you make a distinction as to which were acting under their own power, sir?

“Ah,” the elderly wizard smiled his eyes back to twinkling again. “Your husband is not the foremost Potions master in all of Europe without reason, Harry, he has come up with a potion that reacts to the magic used in the Imperius Curse. We will be able to tell who is under its influence and who is not. Those who lie about it will be detained by the Ministry and given Veritaserum in the course of their interrogation.”

“None of the students were injured, were they, Albus?” Severus asked suddenly, knowing that his House had been represented on both sides of the conflict.

“No, but there are two seventh years who I believe were acting as agents for Voldemort.”

Nodding, the Slytherin sighed. “Nott and Parkinson would be my guess, just on the way they have been behaving since the term started.”

The elderly wizard nodded his head. “Apparently, Miss Parkinson had set her sights on Mister Malfoy, and when he disassociated himself from his father and the beliefs his family held dear, she found herself without a potential spouse.”

“They were betrothed as small children in a traditional pure-blood ritual,” Severus nodded in understanding. “It was alright for Draco to date Ginny Weasley, because Pansy Parkinson knew he would have to fulfill the pledge or be disinherited.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said softly. “When Mister Malfoy refused the Dark Mark this summer, she was embittered, knowing his action also removed him from her reach.”

The three men sat in silence for several minutes, each lost to their own thoughts, until the Headmaster stood to take his leave.

“Albus, could you be available for Slytherin tomorrow? I think Harry and I need to make a trip to the House. We will be back Sunday afternoon.”

“Certainly, Severus, I’d be happy to,” was his response, and then Dumbledore left in a swirl of brightly colored robes.

hpsshpsshpss

Slowly carding his fingers through the silken mop of raven hair, Severus lay in the darkened bedroom, cradling his sleeping husband in his arms. He had not thought the young man was up to having dinner in the Hall, nor to taking a shower alone after Harry confessed that he’d been having dizzy spells. Instead they had eaten the delicious meal that Dobby had brought them, and he had insisted they take a shower together. Harry had been unusually subdued throughout the evening, and Severus became increasingly worried as he packed the few items he wanted to take to London the next day. The teenager had already put his things in the same bag, and slipped into bed. Now, several hours later, he was still restless enough to have awoken Severus.

“Sev,” came a sleepy voice. “Did I wake you up?” 

Severus tucked the smaller man more securely against his side, one hand looped around his waist, dark head resting on his chest, and their legs comfortably entwined. He then smiled softly into the darkness.

“I am fine, Harry, but you obviously are not. Would you like to tell me what is concerning you?”

“I’m sorry I am so stupid.”

A band tightened around his heart. Despite their discussions that afternoon, Severus only now realized the agony that the past three weeks must have been for his young mate. The Slytherin had been in a number of situations when he believed death to be imminent, and remembered well the panic-filled, heart-pounding tension that occurred. To have lived with that burden while maintaining a relatively normal façade was a tribute to the inner strength of the man in his arms. 

“You are many things, Mister Potter, but stupid is not one of them.”

Harry smiled slightly, but did not rise to the bait. He nestled closer. “It would have been so much easier if I had known all the normal wizard stuff that you do. I am pretty sure that none of the other Muggle-raised students would know it, either.”

“You make a valid point, Harry, perhaps there should be a magical studies class to compliment the Muggle studies classes.”

“Indeed,” the Gryffindor said, in a fair imitation of his lover, and was rewarded with a rumble of laughter beneath his ear.

The hand brushing gently through his hair helped him gather the courage he needed to ask his next question. 

“Severus?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Are you…is it… ” The hand stilled at his hesitation.

“Just ask, love, I am not going to bite.”

“Are you really okay about the…baby?”

Harry felt the arm anchoring him to the older wizard shift, and a hand moved to splay across his flat abdomen.

“Perhaps I should be asking you that question, Harry, as you are the one who is carrying our child and will have to go through all the difficulties inherent in pregnancy and delivery.” A kiss was pressed into his hair. “You went from thinking you were dying and willing to sacrifice yourself, to learning instead that you were pregnant with our first child at seventeen years old. How do you feel about this?”

Harry smiled, his husband’s phrasing telling him much more than a straight Severus answer might. He allowed his thoughts to wander for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to answer the question. A baby was growing inside him: a child to love and cherish, to give a stable and loving environment as he grew, to shower with everything he had never received. Harry slid his hand over his husband’s, and swore he could feel a pulse of magic deep inside him.

“Our first child,” he deliberately emphasized Severus’ words, “is a gift I never allowed myself to believe would happen, it was too much like a dream to think I would live through the final battle,” Harry told him truthfully. “But I know that as long as you are with me, Severus, I can get through anything.”

“I could not be happier, my Harry,” his husband answered. “Just a bit concerned that this is another circumstance where you are again forced into a situation without regard to your wishes.”

Harry smiled sleepily, turning his head to run the tip of his tongue along the ridge of a muscle; he enjoyed hearing the hiss it drew out of his mate. “You know I want children, Severus, we provided for several of them in the wills we just wrote. I just thought it would turn out to be a lovely dream, and now I have the chance to actually have a baby. My only fear is bringing a baby into a world were Voldemort still exists.”

“If Merlin’s Prophecies are to be believed, then Orion is the third in our trio,” the older wizard reminded him, ignoring the playful tongue-lashing. “And if that is so, then the countdown to the final battle has begun.”

The words of the two prophecies were etched into his mind:

_…eternal mates bound and true…darkness succumb to lightness enhanced…trio combined with expectant power the Dark Lord knows not …_

_…flower of the dead protects from the grave…the dog star keeps watch…one chosen will not chose, his soul bound forcefully, dark serpent unites…orion will anchor the trio of power…_

The Gryffindor had to agree with his mate. He decided immediately that they would have to keep this pregnancy an absolute secret, to protect all of them from the wrath of anyone who might have read Merlin’s works. Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, and Poppy would be the only ones to know. His tired mind refused to think any more as the implications of this baby began to sink in. Still, one detail stood out as his eyes lowered.

“I’m not sure I like the name ‘Orion’,” he whined.

A smile curved the Slytherin’s lips. “It was your ancestor who named our son, but it does sound a bit ostentatious. Perhaps we might call him a diminutive of Orion, something like ‘Ori’, or ‘Ion’ or ‘Rion’…”

“Rion, I like Rion,” the pregnant wizard said.

Tipping the young man’s head back, Severus leaned down and kissed him gently. “Rion it is, love. Now, sleep. We have much to do tomorrow.”

“Yes, dear,” came the cheeky reply.

hpsshpsshpss

They Flooed directly from the dungeons to the Prince House, pausing long enough to change into Muggle-style clothing before leaving the house on foot to do some shopping. Both men were wearing hats, Harry an American-style baseball cap pulled low over his forehead, and Severus a French leather cap set jauntily on his head. The black jeans both men wore molded their legs and hugged their arses in a way that made each eye the other appreciatively. Harry had pulled on a short-sleeved pullover, while Severus sported a long-sleeved button-down, with the cuffs rolled back in deference to the warm fall day. 

They strolled toward a nearby shopping area, a roll of paper money in Harry’s pocket. Walking close together, they talked quietly. This morning had brought the first stirrings of nausea, and the trip through the Floo system had left him on his knees, retching horribly when Severus stepped out of the fireplace. Although this pregnancy was very unique, the Potions master was fairly sure he could custom brew a safe morning sickness potion for Harry. He did not want his husband losing the weight he had only recently begun to put on.

There were other issues the two wizards discussed as they shopped, centering primarily on how they were to keep the pregnancy a secret, and how it would change their lives. Both agreed that Harry quitting Quidditch would raise too many suspicions, as would a change in any of their routine behaviors. Most things they agreed to take as they came, and Harry asked only that the Ron’s and Hermione’s Occlumency lessons continue, as he knew he would need a support system, but was concerned about putting them in danger from Voldemort. During this discussion, the pair picked out several graduated sizes of the silky sleeping trousers Harry liked, as well as some of other foundation garments and several oversized jumpers that he could wear comfortably. 

A woman who was trying to juggle a baby as well as several bags bumped into Harry, who reached out to steady her. The six-month-old boy took a liking to the young man’s glasses, and Severus stood to the side, watching with a fond smile as his husband played with the child. When Harry rejoined him, the Potions master took one look at the glowing verdant eyes and gave in, allowing Harry to steer him into the expensive baby boutique the young mother had just exited. Watching the expressions play over the younger man’s face touched something deep inside Severus, and he realized that he would do anything to make Harry and their son, happy.

They strolled back to the house loaded with bags and much lighter in the pocket. Severus thought the day had been perfect, giving them a non-threatening environment to talk about what was to come. Both knew they would be forced to stay within the safe confines of Hogwarts until Voldemort was defeated and Orion was born. They would have their friends to dinner tomorrow night and tell them the news, but today and tonight were solely for them. After a light lunch, they spent the afternoon making changes to the house and reinforcing the protective shielding to include an anti-Apparation spell. Upstairs, they chose the room next to theirs to turn into the nursery, which Tiffy immediately took over transfiguring, sobbing happily at her masters’ news.

Dinner was a simple affair. They spent the evening curled in front of the fire in the sitting room, and then Severus took Harry to bed and made slow, passionate love to his husband.


	14. Making Plans

The couple Flooed back early Sunday afternoon, Harry clinging tightly to Severus, hoping to prevent some of the nausea he had experienced on his last journey. It did not help, and he lost the contents of his stomach as soon as they stepped out of the fireplace. With a groan, Harry stretched out on the sofa, and Severus fire-called Poppy Pomfrey, asking her to join them early, to which she immediately agreed. That morning they had issued invitations by Floo asking her, the Headmaster, Ron and Hermione to dinner in their quarters that evening by Floo; Dobby and Tiffy would prepare an Italian dinner, as Harry thought lasagna sounded good. 

Still dressed as he was in jeans and a jumper, Harry protested when Severus bent to remove his dragon hide boots, then built up the fire to bring more warmth into the room. Summoning a light blanket and Harry’s potions text, the Potions master settled at one end of the couch and lifted his husband’s head into his lap, covered him with the blanket, and handed him the book. Picking up one of his new journals, the older man carded his fingers slowly through the silky hair as he read. He did not see the writing in front of him, his mind was lost in thoughts of the future.

A soft knock on the door roused them both, and Harry sat up as Severus stood, straightening his shirt as he made his way to the door. Poppy Pomfrey smiled as the Potions master greeted her and ushered her into the room. His husband’s face was still pale, he thought with a frown, as the young man rose to say hello to the mediwitch. Moving to Harry’s side, Severus urged him back on to the couch with a simple touch.

“Thank you for coming down early, Poppy. Harry and I have a favor to ask of you.”

The witch smiled, smoothing a hand over the blue casual robes she had donned for dinner, and drew her special medical wand from a pocket. “I though there might be a problem, Severus, and from the look of him, I’d say Harry isn’t feeling well.”

“Yes, he admits to several bouts of vertigo as well as extreme nausea this afternoon after we Flooed back from the house.”

Harry glared up at him, and the Slytherin could feel the mild irritation through their bond. “I am sitting right here, you know,” he grumbled, but took the hand Severus held out to him.

“All right, let me do a quick scan. Lay down for a moment, please, Harry.” 

The young man stretched out on the sofa again and held still while the older woman passed her wand over him once, and then again. Frowning at whatever she had found, the mediwitch ran the wand over the Gryffindor’s abdomen a third time. Her face tightened as she glanced up at Severus with a fierce scowl. His heart sank.

“Severus Snape, I ought to hex you! How dare you do this to Harry before he has finished school, and with everything else he has to face…”

With a foreboding look and an up-held hand, the Potions master halted the mediwitch’s tirade. “Before we go any further, could you please tell us whether there is anything wrong with our son? You are frightening my husband.” 

The look of apprehension and fear on the young man’s pale face snapped the woman out of her funk, and she sank down next to him on the sofa, taking his hand. “I’m sorry, Harry. I can assure you that the baby you carry seems to be just fine, and I believe you are only a couple of weeks along.”

“Three and a half weeks, Poppy,” Severus informed her stiffly, his eyes still hard. “Harry and I have chosen four of those we consider our closest friends to know about this pregnancy, as knowledge of it and its ramifications could be cause for capture, torture, or death. If you do not want to be one of those, we can Obliviate you now, and handle it ourselves.”

Tears welled up in the witch’s eyes as she realized the trust she was being offered, even after she had essentially accused Severus of feeding the teenager a pregnancy potion. “My apologies, Severus, I should have realized you are an honorable man and waited for the explanation without making my own assumptions.”

Harry watched as his mate’s eyes warmed, and knew he had forgiven his friend her outburst. Squeezing the mediwitch’s hand, he lay back with a hand resting lightly on his stomach and listened as Severus explained about Merlin, the new prophecies, and the surge of magical power on that night in August. Poppy had to cover her surprised gasp to the realization that they had attained a rare magical conception, something that had not been seen in a wizard couple in hundreds of years. Conception without the aid of potions or spells by two wizards was almost certain, according to legend, to produce a very powerful wizard.

“We are going to announce it during dinner, so you are the first to know,” Harry told her with a smile. 

The older woman patted his hand, letting hers linger briefly over his abdomen. “You should be fine, dear, even though you a still a bit underweight. I am sure that Severus will be able to brew an anti-nausea potion to use when you need it, as well as a prenatal vitamin potion, and possibly a nutrition potion as well.”

Nodding in agreement, Severus leaned over the young man to press a kiss to his forehead. Poppy smiled as she moved to sit in one of the armchairs, giving Severus the room to slide back onto the couch, once again settling Harry with his head in his lap. The mediwitch began to tell them everything she knew about male pregnancies, and what little she knew about magical ones. They all agreed that the witch would quietly research and find out as much as she could about the birthing process, as well as what to expect in labor. Harry cringed when she described hormone fluctuations, mood swings, swollen ankles, and food cravings, making Severus snort with laughter.

The afternoon passed pleasantly, and they were all startled when Tiffy popped in from Prince House to start making preparations for dinner. Settling the matron with a glass of red wine, Severus tugged Harry into the bedroom to freshen up. Changing his jumper for a long-sleeved pullover and robes, Harry glanced in the mirror as he turned sideways to see if he could see any evidence of the new life growing inside him. A chuckle sounded in his ear as Severus moved to stand behind him, both hands coming around him to cup the non-existent bulge.

“You will have plenty of time to admire your figure in the coming months, love, and I am sure you will complain about how fat you are,” his lover whispered as he nuzzled his earlobe, tracing his tongue along the shell of the ear. “No doubt I will be forced to tell you over and over again how you gorgeous look with our child growing in your belly.”

Leaning his head back to give the taller man better access, Harry snorted. “Men are not gorgeous, Severus!”

“You are, love.” The man turned him and swooped down for a hungry kiss. “Now go away so I can finish dressing without undue distractions.”

hpsshpsshpss

Dinner was delicious. Severus was pleased to see Harry eat two helpings of lasagna and Tiffy was ecstatic that Master Harry so enjoyed her cooking. Harry flushed a delightful shade of pink at the attention; as soon as he could, he diverted it to Ron, who was busily consuming his third helping. Twirling the crystal wine glass by its stem, the Potions master watched his lover over the rim, letting the feelings of excitement and apprehension wash over him through their bond. It was unfathomable to Severus that his husband could be afraid of rejection from his friends over this after all they had been through together. 

After the pudding, everyone moved to the sitting room, with the Headmaster conjuring a few additional chairs, while Severus and Harry sat together on the couch. The older man waited until the adults were settled with snifters of brandy before clearing his throat softly. Tucking the nervous teenager firmly into his side, Severus addressed their friends.

“Harry and I believe we have solved part of both the prophecies. The first one that reads _‘trio combined with expectant power the Dark Lord knows not’_ and the last phrase in the second one _‘orion will anchor the trio of power’_.” A soft cough from Albus Dumbledore stopped him, and Severus met his mentor’s eyes. “Albus, we have spoken to Poppy, and she has sworn her life to protect this secret, and only the people in this room will know about this.”

The blue eyes peered intently over the top of the half-moon spectacles, and the Slytherin could feel the brush of powerful magic as the elderly wizard studied his face. His mentor did not like information being kept from him, but both Harry and Severus had agreed this was their news to tell. They understood the dangers and wanted to make sure the people closest to them did as well. He met the Headmaster’s eyes unflinchingly. Finally he saw the understanding in them, and the twinkle returned to the blue eyes.

“As I said, we believe we have been able to decipher part of both the prophecies, but the information must stay within this circle, as it could mean the death of all of us, and the destruction of our way of life. Does everyone understand?”

Three heads nodded in unison. Hermione looked eager and Ron looked scared, while Albus seemed to be watching Harry, as his husband sat up straighter. Poppy, who had already agreed and learned the news, simply smiled in anticipation.

“The night that Harry came into his full magical heritage, we conceived a child. We believe it is our son, Orion, who will ‘anchor the trio of power’.”

Harry watched as the lined face of the Headmaster broke into a smile. Ron looked puzzled, but Hermione squealed gleefully, launching herself from her chair. He barely had time to brace himself before he his arms were full of warm, female form squeezing him enthusiastically. Before he could protest, the weight was removed and she had planted itself in his startled lover’s lap, winding her arms around the normally aloof Potions master’s neck in a congratulatory hug. 

“You’re going to have a baby?” Ron asked with a frown. “Harry’s pregnant?”

“Yes, Ron, I am pregnant,” Harry answered with a bit of trepidation.

The tall redhead blinked at him, an awestruck look on his face. Hermione finally removed herself from a shocked Severus and returned to her chair. 

“That’s bloody amazing, mate! I thought it was only a legend that wizards could get pregnant,” Ron commented, the tips of his ears red, “without some kind of help, you know, like a potion or spell.”

“Congratulations, my boys, for figuring out the prophecies, as well as the wonderful news about your son, Orion.” Albus’ eyes fairly glowed. 

Harry nodded. “I would like to call him Rion, R I O N, not R Y A N.”

“I can see why this matter concerned you. It is imperative that this information not become known,” the Headmaster reasoned. “While the obscure prophecies of Merlin are not well known, it could be disastrous for the news of a magical pregnancy to get out.”

“Yes,” Severus interjected. “We also believe that this actually defines a time for the final battle, as the first prophecy mentions ‘expectant’, which leads me to believe the three of us will have an increase in the power needed to destroy Voldemort during the time Harry is pregnant.” 

The elderly wizard’s face turned grave as he considered this, one hand stroking his white beard. “I believe you are correct, Severus, so we must get started on that research we spoke of Friday. We must add Poppy to the Occlumency training you are doing with Ron and Hermione as well. Gods forbid that any of us are captured, but we need to take precautions to shield our thoughts should it happen.”

“You may go ahead and test me, Albus. I went through some Occlumency training when I did my apprenticeship as a mediwitch,” the witch told him quietly. “I have always continued to practice it for my own protection.”

The Headmaster nodded his head in agreement. “Very well, Poppy, either Severus or I shall test you before you leave.”

The witch nodded, as Hermione asked curiously, “What research?”

Glancing at his mate, Harry took a deep breath. “It’s my scar, Hermione. I am afraid that when I kill Voldemort, I will die as well because of the connection we share.”

“Oh, Harry, I don’t…”

The young man slid to the edge of the couch. “You’ve seen what happens, Hermione! You know how a vision affects me, how much pain it causes me! What will happen when he dies, Hermione?”

The anguish in Harry’s voice surprised everyone but Severus, who knew exactly how much the young man had already suffered in silence with this problem. He shifted and pulled Harry into his arms, cradling him against his chest.

“And if the connection is that deep between them, and Harry dies…” Ron was the strategist of the trio after all, used to thinking about angles and abstract ideas.

“It would in turn kill the baby and Severus, due to their bond,” Dumbledore finished grimly. “We must find a way to eliminate the link between Tom Riddle and Harry.”

“Harry?” Poppy spoke up for the first time, a thoughtful on her face. “If I told you I knew of an excellent mediwizard who specializes in curing Dark curses, would you be willing to be examined by him?”

Lifting his head from his husband’s chest, Harry looked at her. “I would be more than willing to try, but he has to be trustworthy enough that the news isn’t leaked to the _Daily Prophet_. Or worse, to Voldemort. And I do not want him to do any kind of examination that would reveal Rion to him.”

“I believe him to be very trustworthy, Harry, and I am sure Albus will be able to help me with that. He will be allowed only to examine your scar, all right?”

Severus answered for both of them. “Go ahead and verify your friend’s trustworthiness, Poppy, and we will travel to London or wherever he normally practices to meet with him.”

The older woman smiled and nodded. Hermione spoke up again, seeking permission to ask Draco to help her and Ron do their research under the guise of a project for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Knowing that Draco was almost as good at research as the Head Girl, they all decided to let him in on that aspect of their secret. Harry studied Ron as the discussion headed into the theory of their magic combining, and he had to admit he’d been pleasantly surprised by his friend’s reaction. Although the youngest Weasley son had warmed to both Severus and their marriage, Harry had been sure this pregnancy would shock him. Being Muggle-raised, he forgot that things like male pregnancy were not unheard of in the magical world. Or, the teenager thought sagely, his eyes intent on the hand Ron was holding cradled in his, _maybe he is just relieved it’s me and not Hermione who is having a baby!_

hpsshpsshpss

September slid into October, and the first frost of the season covered the green lawns like a blanket. Quidditch practice took up two afternoons a week, although Harry had carefully cut back from the schedule that Ron had set for the rest of the team with the excuse that as the Seeker, he only needed to be able to fly fast and dodge Bludgers. Classes were tough, just as everyone had always told them their NEWT year would be; non-verbal transfiguration and defensive spells were much more difficult than their previous years’ lessons had been. Harry was very glad that Remus, with his solid, practical teaching style, had returned as the DADA professor for the term. Potions class was actually something Hogwarts students looked forward to these days, as Professor Snape had slowly evolved his teaching style to one that reflected a man who was content with his life and had no reason to favor students unfairly, although Harry was the first to point out his continuing devotion to his Slytherins.

Remus Lupin had been let in on their secret the first weekend of October, when he had come down to the dungeons for his Wolfsbane Potion. His sensitive nose had detected a difference in the young Gryffindor’s scent when Harry hugged him in the privacy of the couple’s sitting room. It was a sudden shift, one the werewolf would not have been able to catch had there been others around him. In typical Remus fashion, he had offered quiet congratulations on the child Harry carried, and waited patiently for an explanation. Severus had arrived with a steaming goblet just as his mate sent out an appeal through their bond, and the two had taken the last of the Marauders into their confidence. Harry was not surprised to find his father’s friend was already a fair Occlumens, and very supportive.

The morning after he and Severus had announced their news, Harry had found Ron waiting for his when he came out of the rooms he shared with his husband. Since that time, there was always someone with him, even going to the loo. Many of the members of the DA had decided after the attack at the edge of the Forbidden Forest that Harry was enough of a target to warrant an escort. The teenager grumbled and groused to his mate about not having a moment to himself, but he knew that the older man was relieved to know his friends were watching out for him. Both of them knew Harry was powerful enough to take care of himself, but were concerned about him being incapacitated in some way, or worse, being taken by a portkey.

The morning sickness that Harry had feared never materialized, much to his and Severus’ relief. He did get nauseated if he did not eat every couple hours, though, and had taken to carrying biscuits and a flask of pumpkin juice in his bag. At almost seven weeks pregnant, he had noticed a few subtle changes in his body, such as the darkening and increased sensitivity of his nipples. Severus seemed fascinated by the changes, and the couple spent most mornings meditating together before they got out of bed in the morning, sinking jointly into their magic, so that the fathers-to-be could see the growing ball of energy that was their son. Poppy visited the dungeons every Friday evening to perform a scan of the young man, lecture him on proper eating habits, and prod his abdomen with tender hands. Kingsley Shacklebolt had investigated the mediwizard poppy had recommended, and the man, John McIntire, had been approved. An appointment was made for the next Friday evening, and Poppy would accompany the pair to London for the consultation.

Neither Hermione nor Draco had been able to find anything useful on the subject of curse scars, and it seemed that, as usual, Harry was a rather unique case. As no one had ever survived the Killing Curse before the fifteen-month-old Harry had, there was no frame of reference, and while there were numerous books written on the theory of how he had survived, none of them had yielded anything useful. The two students had even spent a weekend pouring over the books in the library at Grimmauld Place, and were still going through the books they had brought back. Just last weekend, Ron had tentatively made the suggestion that the Chamber of Secrets might contain a hidden room, one Harry hadn’t entered in his previous visit. He proposed that such a ‘study’ would be the perfect place to house original works by Salazar Slytherin, and Albus Dumbledore was reviewing the merits of allowing the chamber to be opened again to explore the possibility. 

The week dragged by for Harry, and his trepidation grew over the approaching appointment. He wasn’t exactly scared of what the mediwizard might find, as he already suspected the worse, but he was apprehensive about being formally handed his own and his spouse’s death sentences. As he made his way toward NEWT potions that Thursday afternoon, he made a silent vow to his son that no matter what happened, Harry would make sure this small life had a chance to survive. 

“Hermione,” he spoke softly, leaning closer to his best friend, “promise me something?”

The soft brown eyes took in the over-bright eyes and solemn look. “Yes, Harry?”

“Promise me that if anything should happen to me, you will take care of ‘things’?”

She slid her arm around his waist as the walked into the classroom. “You know I will, love.”

Harry nodded, leaning over to kiss her cheek. As they entered the classroom, he felt the brush of his husband’s dark eyes. Sending a mental hug through their bond, he settled into the chair beside his friend, across the aisle from the majority of the other students. Draco sat at the next workstation over, just behind Zabini and Nott. Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones sat in front of Harry’s table, while Ron and Dean Thomas sat behind them. The remaining students filtered in just before the lesson started and scampered to their seats. On the hour, Severus stood and began to lecture on the properties of various potion bases and the variables that affected them. 

After giving each pair of students a different base, the Potions master set them to making a simple cleaning compound, which would be visibly affected by the different variables that had been discussed. It was a relatively easy lesson, but one that was essential for them to learn, as something as simple as the humidity in the air could turn a potion from a healing potion to a poison. The noise level in the room rose slightly as the teenagers discussed the changes they observed as they used their wands to change the temperature around the cauldron or the saturation of moisture in the air. A slight feeling of unease niggled at Harry, who stood a step back from the steaming cauldron, letting Hermione direct the changes.

“Professor Snape?” Blaise Zabini called to Severus, who was walking slowly around the room, observing the students’ work. “I’m not sure this is how the potion is supposed to react, could you come have a look?”

A shiver ran down Harry’s spine as he watched the tall wizard walk gracefully over to the smoking cauldron. Glancing at Severus’ face, Harry looked back toward Zabini in time to see the Slytherin slip something into the bubbling base, just as his husband leaned over. To Harry it seemed that the explosion happened in slow motion, and he threw out his hand, casting a protective spell over his husband just as the liquid hit him full in the face. Without conscious thought, the Gryffindor had the two students responsible stunned and bound on the floor, a containment shield around the cauldron, and was at Severus’ side as he fell to his knees. Catching him, Harry struggled to restrain his mate’s hands, which were trying to claw at his eyes. 

“ _Aguamenti!_ ”

Water poured from Harry’s wand, which had appeared in his hand, and he began to irrigate the area around the older man’s eyes. It appeared that Harry’s shield had been quick enough to protect all but the initial point of contact, which, unfortunately, was his husband’s upper face. Whatever Zabini had slipped into the base had turned it into a corrosive solution, and Harry could see the damage to Severus’ eyes even through the swelling and bubbled skin. Cradling the older man to his chest and tilting his head back, he continued to pour water onto the affected area, knowing that Ron, Draco, and Hermione were taking care of clearing the classroom and getting help. Vague pain filtered through their bond, and Harry knew his bond-mate had damped the link subconsciously.

He looked over to where the two junior Death Eaters were bound, their eyes now open and terrified. A feral mockery of a smile split Harry’s face.

“You had better hope they expel you and send you to Azkaban, because if I ever see you again, I _will_ kill you!”

A terrible anger welled inside him and his eyes glowed an eerie green, pushing Nott over the edge into fainting and Zabini to whimper as he wet himself. A moan pulled his attention back to Severus in time to see the older man try to bring his hands up to grab at his face. Harry silently pocketed his wand and wrapped him arms tightly around his lover, rocking slightly side to side.

‘ _Sev, I’m here and Poppy’s on her way, open up and let me share the pain._ ’

A wave of excruciating pain slammed into his face, and Harry could only hold on to Severus with all his strength. Pulses of fire burned at his eyes and nose, and whatever the older man had inhaled before the protective shield had enveloped him ripped his throat raw. Struggling to manage the pain, Harry went weak with relief when he heard loud, familiar voices shouting nearby.

“Severus!” 

Poppy Pomfrey was on her knees beside them. She softly reassured Harry as she disentangled him from his husband. Harry retrieved his wand, not noticing the drying spell Albus Dumbledore cast over him as he followed the mediwitch, who was levitating Severus to their quarters. Stripping off his school robe and uniform, Harry climbed into bed at Poppy’s direction and braced the older man against him, his head cradled in the hollow of Harry’s shoulder as she worked on his face. Slowly, as the matron cast healing spells and poured potions down Severus’ throat, the agony retreated and a dull ache around and in his eyes took its place. 

A house-elf popped into existence next to their bed, and Harry could see bandages as well as more potion vials on the tray it held out for Poppy. A lurid yellow paste was spread over the obsidian eyes Harry had grown to love so much, and then they were quickly covered with bandages. Another vial was pressed against his beloved’s lips, and Harry whispered reassurances into an elegantly sculpted ear, coaxing him to swallow. A vial of lavender potion appeared in front of him, and Harry looked up to see Poppy standing next to him.

“I imagine your head is pounding as well, dear. Take this, it will help.”

Opening his mouth obediently, Harry swallowed the surprisingly pleasant tasting liquid. “Will he be all right?” His voice cracked, but his eyes did not leave the witch’s face.

“Severus closed his eyes automatically when the potion erupted, so the majority of the damage was to his left eyelid, which will have to be re-grown, and some surface burns to his left eye. I have already healed the rest of the damage, and none of the fumes were inhaled into his lungs. I want him to stay in bed for the rest of the day, but if he is a good boy, I’ll let him go with us tomorrow to London.”

Tears of relief welled up in his eyes, and Harry leaned down to kiss his mate.

“Really, Potter,” the silky voice was raw, “not in front of students.”

Harry looked up, noticing for the first time their bedroom was packed; Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco stood silently next to the Headmaster. “How do you know there are students here?” 

“I can smell them, of course,” came the droll answer, and Harry sagged with relief. The others laughed as he leaned in and kissed Severus almost desperately.


	15. Seeing the Healer

Severus Snape allowed his young husband to coddle him after he awoke later that evening, knowing it was as much for Harry as it was for himself. A dull throbbing centered in his left eye was a constant reminder of the attempt on his life earlier that day. After being forced to endure the over-cautious teenager spoon feeding him soup for dinner, endlessly fluffing his pillows, and twitching the bed covers, it was reassuring to take his potions, pull his husband into his arms, and escape into sleep. Although the pain of the original burns and the re-growing skin woke him several times through the night, Harry was always there to take care of him. Having precious few memories of being cared for by anyone other than the formidable mediwitch, Severus allowed himself the glow of warmth that settled in his heart as he felt Harry cradle his head against his shoulder in a reversal of their usual sleeping arrangement.

The analgesic potion was making him sleepy again. Severus settled into the unfamiliar position, judging by his internal clock that it was approaching dawn. Any doubts the older man might have harbored as to whether Harry would be able to care for an infant had been dispelled by the patience with which he had tenderly ministered to his grumpy mate. Neither of their childhoods could be described as happy in the slightest, and he knew both of them had unvoiced concerns over whether they would be adequate parents, but Severus felt the love that had grown between them would be more than enough for any children they were gifted with. Sleep took him again as he envisioned a dark-haired toddler with immense green eyes clutching tightly to his hand.

hpsshpsshpss

Harry slid out of bed at his usual time in the morning, careful not to disturb his sleeping husband. He checked on Severus through their bond, and eyed the white bandages, such a stark contrast against the raven hair, even in the dim light of the bedroom. Padding to the bathroom, Harry showered and dressed, nibbling on the toast and tea Dobby had left ready for him in the sitting room. He had double Transfiguration this morning and Charms after lunch, then they could get ready to go to London. The Potions classes were diverted to the library for the day, to work on hastily assigned essays of various topics, with a required parchment length of two feet. Harry had to roll his eyes as he contemplated the possible undiscovered uses for dragon’s blood based on the diet of said dragon.

After a final check on the sleeping patient, Harry set off down the hallway. Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood seemed to materialize at his side as soon as he joined the main corridor out of the dungeons.

“You were supposed to wait until we got there, Harry,” Neville admonished gently. Luna simply turned her dreamy eyes on her boyfriend with a smile.

Harry had the grace to blush guiltily. “I know, Neville, and I’m sorry. I guess I had a few things on my mind.”

“How is he doing?” Luna interjected, her voice edged with concern. 

“Better, Luna,” he told the witch with a smile, always heartened by the Ravenclaw’s easy acceptance of the extremes in his life. “Madam Pomfrey thinks his eyes will heal with no complications, but had the potion been any hotter….” His voice trailed off, as Harry was unable to even voice the alternative.

Luna patted his arm reassuringly as they parted company at the bottom of the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall. Ron and Hermione had just walked out of the Great Hall, and quickened their pace to join the two young men. Greetings were exchanged as Ron and Neville led the way up the stairs, with Harry and Hermione falling into step behind them. Harry marveled how all of them had changed over the past six years. Ron was the tallest of them, all bright red hair and long legs, a hint of muscle in his lanky frame. Neville had finally outgrown his chubbiness after a growth spurt that summer had placed him just a bit taller than Harry, with a sturdy, muscular frame; Harry had at least grown out of his thin, delicate look, attaining a respectable height that fell just short of two meters, and had added a layer of muscle on to his slender form. Hermione had blossomed into a stunning woman, she was a bit shorter than Harry, with a willowy figure that curved generously in the right places. Luna, though the shortest of them all, had grown as well. She had a slender, boyish frame, and her dreamy obtruding eyes still her most distinguishing feature.

“How’s Severus this morning?” Hermione leaned closer and asked under her breath.

“As well as can be expected,” he whispered back. “He woke up several times during the night, but I don’t think he is in any pain at the moment.”

With a smile, she nodded, moving away slightly as a group of Hufflepuff first years charged up the stairs past them. “Good, I was worried.”

Draco Malfoy caught up to them halfway up the stairs, falling into step on Harry’s other side. When his decision had led to being disinherited by his Death Eater father, Draco struggled to provide for himself. He had impressed Harry with his determination to succeed and his willingness to work, all while holding his head high. He had accepted the Weasleys’ offer to stay at the Burrow, and later Harry’s to stay at Grimmauld Place, quite graciously, and he had helped both households without being asked. The Slytherin’s course of action and acceptance of its ramifications had pulled a grudging respect out of the Harry, and had been one of the reasons Draco had been gifted with an ‘inheritance’ from the monies left by Sirius Black. While both acknowledged they might never be friends, there was a mutual respect between the two wizards, and that pleased Severus, Harry knew.

The day sped by, and at lunchtime, Harry went back to the dungeon rooms he shared with the Potions master. He was surprised and pleased to find the man in question sitting in his chair in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a dressing gown and reading a book. Madam Pomfrey had obviously been down that morning: the bandages were gone from his husband’s face, replaced by a black patch over the left eye. The right side was pinkish, the new skin healthy but tender, and Severus’ hair had been pulled back from his face into a low ponytail clasped at the base of his neck. Pressing a kiss to the top of the silky dark hair, Harry stroked a hand down the sleek mass.

“How do you feel?”

“Very well, love, considering what could have happened. Poppy found that my left eye is still sensitive to light, so I am to wear the patch for a few days,” the older wizard told him. “I have asked Dobby to bring us sandwiches for lunch.”

“That would be great!”

Unclasping his school robes and draping them over the back of the couch, the younger man pulled the small table closer to his mate’s chair, then slid to the carpet at his feet with a sigh. Leaning back against the leather, Harry rested his head against Severus’ knee and closed his eyes. A hand slipped down to softly card through the wild mop of hair, and he completely relaxed into the touch. One hand curled around the leg of the man he loved, the other resting lightly on his abdomen, he slipped into a light doze. 

“Harry?” 

The silken voice calling his name softly roused him from sleep, and Harry sat up, stretching. A tray of sandwiches with bowls of soup and a pot of tea had appeared on a tray on the table, and Harry’s stomach grumbled at the sight of the food.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

An elegantly arched eyebrow over the one visible eye told Harry his husband knew exactly how much sleep he had managed the night before. Flushing, he grabbed a sandwich and devoured it. Severus continued to stroke a gentle hand through his hair before turning to his own lunch. 

“Rion would appear to be hungry this afternoon,” the older man drawled as he accepted the bowl of soup the teenager handed him.

hpsshpsshpss

Charms flew by that afternoon, and Harry thanked his escorts, Neville and Ginny this afternoon, as he hurried in to their rooms to shower. Severus was bathed, dressed in a button-down white shirt and Muggle dress trousers, and speaking to Albus Dumbledore in the sitting room when the young man swept in. Stopping to exchange greetings and collect a kiss from the Potions master, he headed immediately into the bathroom to shower, rushing through his preparations. When he stepped into their bedroom, he found a pair of black denim jeans and a soft cashmere jumper already laid out on the bed. Pulling them on, Harry smiled at the discovery that his jeans were a bit snug in the waist. 

Poppy had joined the two wizards when Harry returned to the sitting room, and a tea tray had appeared on the small table, loaded with biscuits and cakes. His nervousness beginning to make itself known, the young Gryffindor found that his stomach churned threateningly when the mediwitch offered him the plate of goodies. Shaking his head, Harry paced to the fireplace, then back toward the chair Severus was occupying. A hand shot out and latched onto his wrist, drawing him down to sit on the arm of his husband’s chair. 

“I take it you are feeling a bit nervous, Harry?” the Headmaster asked, his eyes twinkling. 

“A little, I guess, Professor.”

Severus snorted and stood suddenly, catching the younger man as he tumbled off his precarious perch. “There is no reason we can not go ahead to the house, is there, Poppy?”

“Absolutely not, Severus,” the mediwitch responded, standing and brushing the wrinkles out of her robes, “and it might make the time go faster.”

The witch was right, Harry reflected an hour later, after his stomach finally settled following the Floo ride to the Prince House. Adamantly refusing to do anything but walk, for fear of inducing another bout of nausea, the trio set off for the Healer’s office, a kilometer away. The old Victorian mansion had been divided into offices and apartments, and was remarkably well kept and cheery. They easily found their way to the correct office, and were ushered into a large sitting room by a blonde witch with an enormous bust. Harry felt his eyes bulge at the sheer size, and idly wondered if she routinely found herself overbalanced when she leaned forward.

‘ _Tsk, tsk Mister Potter-Snape! Such thoughts you have running through that mind of yours!_ ’ his mate laughed at him through their link.

‘ _But Severus, don’t they get in the way of…_ ’ Harry pinkened, ‘ _well, everything?’_

_‘Actually, my love, I believe she thinks they are her best asset.’_

Harry shuddered as the blond sashayed out of the room in a cloud of flowery perfume. The three of them sat on the large couch, the leather buttery soft, sinking into the cushions as their weight settled, and the pregnant teenager leaned into his husband’s side, drawing strength from the contact. The whole concept of a piece of Tom Riddle’s soul embedded in his forehead made his stomach churn, and he both welcomed and dreaded knowing if this was the case.

John McIntire was a tall man with a barrel chest and a broad nose, with a close-cropped beard and a mane of red hair that would have made any Weasley proud. Dressed in dark gray trousers and a blue shirt that matched the color of his eyes, he sported a white lab coat of the type Muggle doctors favored rather than traditional healer’s robes. When he entered the room through a door at the opposite end of the room, the large man had several manila file folders clasped in one hand and a rack of capped vials in the other. The Healer set those on a small table beside a leather armchair before acknowledging their presence, much to both Harry’s and Severus’ irritation. His first impression of the man had Harry’s thoughts skittering to Gilderoy Lockhart for some reason.

“Poppy Pomfrey, it is good to see you again!” 

Harry watched as the mediwitch stood; the Healer grasped her hand and lifted it to his mouth as he sketched a short bow, brushing his lips over her knuckles. With pink-stained cheeks, the witch turned toward Harry.

“May I introduce your patient? This is Harry Snape. Harry, I’d like you to meet John McIntire.”

Harry rose to shake the healer’s hand.

“Ah, yes, Mister Snape, Poppy tells me you are having problems with an old curse scar,” the Healer skipped a greeting and went straight to the heart of the problem, his voice booming in the small room rather like Hagrid’s did when he was excited. He completely ignored the Potions master, who had remained seated. 

“Yes, sir.” Harry remained standing as the Healer stepped closer.

“I understand you experience residual pain to the point of nausea, and at times, it has been debilitating?”

“Yes, sir.”

The redhead pulled a roll of parchment and Ever-Inked quill from his pocket and began making notes. “Do these pains come in random fashion or is there something that prompts them, such as a weather change or emotional upset?”

The teenager studied the sky-blue eyes for a moment, wondering why the mediwitch had not told this man more. “The pains I have seem to be connected to the person who cast the curse on me in the first place, and do not seem to be affected at all by my own activities or emotions.”

The Healer was shaking his head back and forth as Harry spoke. “No, no, Mister Snape, it is impossible that the emotions of the caster would have anything to do with how the scar reacts.”

“But, it does…” Harry started hotly, his magic quick to flare.

“As I said,” McIntire cut across the young man’s words dismissively. “I am the foremost expert in the field of Dark curse scars, Mister Snape, and in all my years of study…”

Severus Snape suddenly appeared behind the young man, standing tall and foreboding with his hands lightly grasping his husband’s shoulders as he grounded the wild magic that threatened to flare. It had been a while since Harry had allowed himself to be provoked this way, and the Slytherin wondered if the unfamiliar hormones of pregnancy were coming into play. Making a mental note to speak to Poppy Pomfrey in private, he turned his ire on the smug-looking wizard in front of them.

“You are an egotistical idiot, and if you are incapable of assisting us we will not take up any more of your time.” The words were snapped out between barely moving lips as Severus felt the younger man work to control the magic that had started to swirl. “Bloody Hufflepuff,” he muttered darkly.

“And just who are you?” The Healer took a step backward, studying the dark man for the first time since he entered the room, taking in the black eye-patch.

The dark eye narrowed as the blue ones suddenly opened wide in recognition. “Pro… Professor Snape! I didn’t recognize you! I…”

“Obviously, Healer McIntire. Now if you would be so kind, either proceed with an examination of my bonded or get out of the way so that you do not impede our departure.”

The embarrassed Healer stammered out a response that neither man could quite understand, but with a flick of the wand that appeared in his hand, conjured up a padded examination table. With an almost frantic gesture, McIntire indicated Harry was to climb up on the table, which stood waist high to the teenager. Levering himself up, he reached out and snagged one of Severus’ hands, adding a plea through their bond not to leave. The obsidian eye softened as it met the emerald ones with a mixture of apprehension and anger still visible in their depths. The Healer nervously observed the interplay between the men and swallowed visibly.

“Now, Mister S — Snape, where is this curse scar and how did you become cursed?”

Harry stared at the large man, his head bent over the parchment again, quill scribbling frantically, and wondered if the man was really as moronic as he seemed. Chiding himself for allowing his ego to interfere, the teenager took a breath and began.

“I was cursed when I was fifteen months old, and it was the Avada Kedavra curse.”

The redhead raised his head slowly, the quill stilling. It appeared to Harry that this was truly the first time since he had entered the room that the healer had looked at him directly. A frown creased his forehead; how could anyone treat a patient when they didn’t even see them as real people? The blue eyes roamed over his face before doing the upward flick toward his scar that the Boy Who Lived was so familiar with, and he gritted his teeth as those eyes widened when they finally took in his scar.

“Oh my, you’re Harry Potter!” The man’s mouth hung open for a moment before he snapped it shut and gathered the tattered shreds of his professionalism around him like a cloak. “My apologies, Mister Potter, I… ” 

“Potter-Snape,” Harry supplied helpfully, sharing an amused look with his mate.

“Yes, of course, I apologize.” The large man’s face was the same color as his hair. “I was not given any details when Madam Pomfrey asked me to assist in your case.”

Once the former Hufflepuff settled down and began to examine Harry, he seemed to recover a bit of his confidence. He took measurements and asked questions about the pain the teenager felt at various stimuli. The looming form of Severus Snape seemed to be forgotten as the Healer began to cast specific diagnostic spells over the lightning bolt scar, taking care to keep the spell very localized, he explained, and therefore very specific in its diagnosis. Harry was relieved at this; his unattached hand had lifted to settle casually across his abdomen, and his husband had stepped closer when spells were cast. Poppy had moved from the couch and was observing the exam from the foot of the table, no doubt keeping an eye on her star patient, he mused.

Another spell was cast, and Harry felt a jolt of electricity hit his scar and flash through his body, fire dancing along his nerve endings. His body convulsed as he crushed the long, slender fingers that encased his hand, and a scream was ripped from his throat. Severus had him off the table and clasped in his arms before the suddenly ashen-faced Healer could step back. Panting, Harry clung to the older wizard as the pain receded, relaxing slowly, not surprised to find Poppy at his elbow.

“What spell was that, John?” she asked as she gently urged the Potions master to release his hold on Harry.

“A simple diagnostic spell to measure the residual Dark magic left in the scar,” the redhead replied. He was sweating heavily, nervously, and his crisp lab coat looked a bit disheveled. “Mister Potter-Snape’s reaction would indicate that there is still a direct tie to the caster, and any stimulation to the magic may cause him pain.”

“As we had suspected already,” Severus said as he helped Harry back up on the examination table. “Now tell us how to block that stimulation, or at least mitigate the pain it causes.” 

When the large man began his tests again, this time in a more cautious manner, the Slytherin nodded with approval. The scientist in him appreciated the necessity of the testing process, but the husband in him wanted to flatten the idiot for the pain he had caused. The thoroughness of the procedure reassured him that this man was actually as good as his reputation, and Severus began to relax as he stood at the side of the table, both hands wrapped around one of Harry’s. 

Almost an hour later, McIntire finally stepped back and allowed Harry to get up from the table. Flicking his wand, he banished the exam table and waved them back to the couch. A snap of his fingers summoned a house-elf and a tea tray, and Harry settled himself against Severus, leaning into his side again. His head ached and his scar prickled as if over-stimulated, much like it had after an evening of Occlumency lessons during his fifth year. He rubbed absently at his forehead.

“Well, Mister Potter-Snape, I imagine that telling you that say you are unique would simply be redundant, so I will explain what I have managed to eliminate,” the Healer told them after pouring the tea. “You are not suffering from phantom or random pain episodes, nor are you in anyway imagining the intensity of the pain.”

Severus snorted dismissively, and the larger man flushed. 

“Yes, well, I suppose you did know that. I am very sure that there is no foreign material embedded in your scar, per se, although I believe there was a transfer of magic when this curse was cast upon you. I believe the, uh, caster of this particular spell will have the ability to inflict pain on you until you are able to expel the residual Dark magic associated with the curse scar,” he finished apologetically, before turning to address the Potions master. “There is a topical potion that may be useful in numbing the area when the pain flares up. It is rarely used as it is extremely difficult to brew, but I don’t think you will have any difficulty with it.”

Severus inclined his head at the compliment and accepted the scroll of parchment that was handed to him. “Thank you, Healer McIntire, and I apologize for becoming agitated earlier, but as you can see, Harry has suffered a great deal with this scar pain.”

McIntire set his teacup down. “I realize I can come off, er, a bit pompous at times, but I did not mean to minimize your suffering, Mister Potter-Snape.” Standing, he extended his hand to Harry and continued, “I make you a Wizard’s oath that no word of this will leave this office. I only request that you allow me to help, if I can.”

Standing up, Harry grasped the offered hand and smiled. “Thank you, sir, and please, call me Harry.”

hpsshpsshpss

The trio Flooed back to the Headmaster’s office to find the older wizard waiting for them with a light dinner. They discussed the visit, and Harry’s mood was very upbeat. He had taken the healer’s words to mean that there was no ‘soul’ or anything physical in his scar, only the residual Dark magic that had transferred some of Tom Riddle’s powers to him that night in Godric’s Hollow. If he could just find a way to destroy that tie to his scar, he might be able to eliminate the debilitating pain it caused. 

Severus could feel the exhilaration and relief in his young mate, and was glad they had suffered through the examination. It was empowering to know that there was no physical piece of the Dark Lord’s soul in scar that marred Harry’s forehead; just having the essence of the evil wizard’s magic caused him enough pain. The Slytherin had wondered why a piece of soul would cause such agony whenever the soul it belonged to was close by, as it seemed like to much of an opposite reaction. Dark magic, on the other hand, was very capable of producing that type of torture, as he remembered clearly from his Dark Mark.

Getting ready for bed, he was surprised to find Harry already under the covers when he came out of the bathroom, curled up in the middle of the large four-poster. Sliding in, Severus sighed with pleasure over the feel of the warmth-charmed sheets and the naked form that immediately pressed itself against him. Welcoming the younger man into his arms, he cupped the back of his lover’s head and took his mouth in a searing kiss. Hands roamed over his chest, toying with his nipples as Severus’ unoccupied hand dropped to cup the wonderfully curved arse, pulling the hips flush with his.

Both men gasped as their erections brushed, and Severus rolled over, settling into the cradle of his husband’s thighs as he began to trail a line of kisses down the slender throat. He worked his way down the lightly muscled chest, tracing his fingers down the line of pectoral muscle to the tempting nubs. Suckling one into his mouth, he plucked its twin as his soul mate arched into the caresses, his cries of pleasure echoing through the bedroom. Continuing his journey downward, Severus paused to cup the barely visible bulge where their son resided, gently pressing a kiss to it, before sliding his hands underneath the firm globes of flesh, and kneading them as his lips engulfed the head of the weeping cock. Fingers splayed across the warm skin, his thumbs parted the cheeks, and he began to gently press against the puckered entrance.

Pulling his hands from his husband’s head, Harry silently summoned and opened their lube, dribbling it alongside his twitching balls. Pulling his legs up, he held them as he felt the first finger breech him, groaning at the sensations as they crashed through him. The wet heat engulfing his throbbing erection and feel of the fingers stretching him, brushing against his prostate, were enough to almost send him over the edge. 

“Severus! Now… want you… now!” Harry knew he was babbling and didn’t care. Severus slid off his cock with a wet pop, moving to comply with the heated demand. 

Grasping Harry’s hips, he pressing into him slowly as Harry arched up to meet him, impaling himself on the thick member. Severus gasped, and responded by thrusting deeper still, leaning forward to brace his weight on his forearms when he felt Harry’s legs encircle his waist. The younger man’s Slytherin side surfaced as his husband began to slowly rock back and forth, and Harry contracted his muscles, squeezing the cock filling him. He was rewarded with a gasp, and the bond flooded with sensation as Severus began to thrust deeply, capturing his lips in a hard kiss. Reaching up, Harry drew his nails over other man’s nipples, pinching them hard. With a groan, Severus levered himself up to his knees, gripping the slender hips tightly, and pounded into his husband at just the right angle to brush his sweet spot as he thrust. His climax exploded through him within seconds, pulling Harry with him as the sensation overwhelmed them both.

Pulling the discarded bedcovers back over both of them, Severus’ cleaning charm tingling along his flesh, Harry snuggled into his mate’s side as his arm wrapped around his waist, his head resting on a broad shoulder.

“Love you, Sev,” he said sleepily, ignoring the prickling, achy feeling in his scar, clearing his mind again for good measure.

“And I love you, my Harry.”


	16. Weaving Magic

The dream began normally enough, with a view of a brisk night with a large glowing moon to light the landscape of around a small English village, a gentle breeze stirring the trees. A group of people stood at one end of the roadway that led through the center of the community, gathered around the front of one of the largest homes. Neat and well-kept, there was a row of cribbage bats at one end of the porch, and several bicycles standing neatly at the other end. A spear of pain lanced through his head as one of the black-hooded forms turned; he recognized the style of the robes first, then a flash of white as moonlight glinted off the mask worn by the figure. With a sharp crack another being popped into existence beside the others, who turned as one and bowed deeply, causing the man’s scarlet eyes to gleam with satisfaction in the darkness. White hot pain seared through his head as the red eyes flicked over the large house, coming to rest on the a neatly lettered sign posted next to the front door, a chain of little red hearts forming a border around the words, _The Millard House, Home for Orphaned Children_. 

“Well, Fenrir, this is your party, why don’t you get it started?”

The figures crept into the house, leaving the door conveniently ajar to allow the Death Eaters who followed easy access. Writhing with pain, the screams of children echoing through his mind, Harry tried to seal his mind off from the invasion. Horrific images and the sound of cold, high-pitched laughter flooded his mind, making the teenager want to retch. The sight of the man Voldemort has called Fenrir cornering a group of small boys in a dormitory type room, ripping into terrified children, had Harry sobbing with impotent fury, knowing there was nothing he could do to help them. 

“ _You can’t help them, Potter! You failed them just as you failed that mongrel of a godfather of yours!_ ” The high-pitched laughter sounded again as Harry struggled to push out the alien presence. 

Arms snaked around him and held him tightly as another flash of pain shot through him. Knowing that Severus held him and would not let any harm come to him or their son, Harry struggled to concentrate on dropping into his magical core. Finding that, he pushed outward, moving in an upward motion toward his mind, trying to get a picture of the Dark magic that was causing the waves of agonizing pain currently flowing through him. The pain began to ebb as he got closer to the source, and faded abruptly as he flowed with his magic through the pathways in his mind. A residual dark red glow was the only discernable remnant as the pain lessened.

‘ _Harry?_ ’ Severus’ concern colored his voice. ‘HARRY!’

Opening his eyes painfully, the teenager tried to roll away as his stomach lurched again, but instead a basin was thrust under his face and he was held as he vomited. The basin vanished, and he was pulled back into the warmth of Severus’ arms, wrapped in the soft blankets. A burst of silver flashed past Harry’s blurry eyes, and he started, only realizing what it was after he saw the wand in the older wizard’s hand. A second later, his glasses were slipped onto his face and gently settled in place.

“Patronus?” he croaked, as a potion vial and then a goblet of water were pressed to his lips.

“Yes,” his husband said absently as he set both down on the bedside table and summoned his dressing gown, “a panther.”

“Severus!”

The Headmaster’s sleep-roughened voice sounded from the sitting room. The Potions master answered him, directing the elderly wizard to the bedroom as he continued to cradle the younger wizard to him, a hand gently carding through the soft raven hair. The images he had witnessed playing through his soul mate’s mind had been horrific, and it was apparent to the former spy that the intrusion into Harry’s mind had been a deliberate act. Somehow, Voldemort had learned what the young man went through when he had a vision, and he clamped down hard on the anger that flared up.

“Severus?” The clear blue eyes were fixed on the young man in his arms. “What happened?”

“Vision,” Harry answered, opening his eyes, the mild analgesic having taken the edge off the residual pain throbbing at his temples. “An attack on an orphanage.” He shuddered as he replayed the scene in his mind. “It said ‘Millard House’ on the sign by the front door.”

“It was Greyback, Albus,” Severus spat out, his own head aching in sympathy. “The bastard let that rabid werewolf into a house full of children, then deliberately lowered his shields to send the images to Harry!”

The elderly wizard raised his wand upwards, sending a silver phoenix flying from the end and through the stone wall. “Fenrir Greyback, Severus?”

“Yes,” the Potions master whispered, “even worse, someone close to Harry has provided Voldemort with the information about the pain he suffers through his scar.” Harry could feel the raw emotion churning in his mate as he explained his conclusion.

Harry gasped, realizing that in truth, there were not many who had witnessed these ‘scar attacks’, and he could narrow it down to his dorm mates, the Weasley family, Poppy, Remus, and Hermione. Percy was already in Azkaban for the crimes he had committed against his own family and Harry. He could not imagine Hermione, Ron, or Remus deliberately or even accidentally sharing such knowledge with his enemy. And Voldemort would have surely done this before if he had been aware of the result of a vision, which left his dorm mates as the most likely suspects. The teenager tightened his grip on his husband as the pain of betrayal swept through him. Someone within his own House had turned on him.

The Headmaster sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a second vial of pain reliever into Severus’ hand, before putting a reassuring hand on Harry’s back. The Slytherin did not even bother to ask how the older wizard knew he was in pain, he simply swallowed the contents. The stillness of the body in his arms did not fool him; Harry was not asleep, just trying to patch another hole in his soul, ripped by this latest treachery.

“Professor Dumbledore?” Harry shifted his position in order to meet the clear blue eyes.

“Yes, Harry?” Albus Dumbledore leaned forward, his hand still resting on the teenager’s back 

“Is there anyway you can add a protective field to the Gryffindor dorms, so that everyone will stay safe?” he asked cautiously, knowing that the extra worry over the safety of those who were his friends there was not good for he or the baby.

“Although I am quite aware that Mister Weasley spends most his time in the Head Girl’s quarters, I will add an extra ward to all the dormitories first thing in the morning.”

The young man offered him a wan smile as the gentle hand patted his shoulder again and the Headmaster stood up. “I must go, my boys, the Order should have a report on the attack shortly, and I need to be ready. I will speak to both of you later.”

Dawn was only just approaching, but neither man had any hope of further sleep, and by unspoken agreement they started their day. After going through their usual morning ritual, Severus had tea, toast, and a nutrition potion ready for Harry when he came out of the bedroom, dressed in a soft pair of new, larger, denim jeans and a jumper. The potion, made with a strawberry base that actually tasted pleasant, coated the stomach and settled any lingering nausea. This would hold Harry for several hours, when they would return to have a heavier brunch, as had become their weekend habit. It seemed that if he ate a light meal every few hours, the young man had no problems with his stomach. Later they would enjoy a light lunch, fruit and cream mid-afternoon, tea time and then dinner. 

After breakfast the pair moved to the Potions master’s private lab and began to prepare the ingredients that would be needed to brew the potion Healer McIntire had recommended. It used relatively common ingredients until the last few minutes of brewing, then there was a difficult pattern of stirring strokes combined with a precisely timed spell designed to dispel Dark magic, followed by the final addition of a drop of phoenix tears. Preparing the potion base took up the entire morning, mostly occupied by make sure that the murtlap tentacles were properly shredded and pounded before setting them to simmer slowly. By the time that was finished, Harry’s stomach was churning unpleasantly, and he realized it was past time to put something in it. Rion was not happy.

Severus could feel the rebellion of his mate’s stomach through their bond, and had to refrain from rolling his eyes as he took in the stoic expression on the teenager’s face. Spelling the flame to the proper heat and casting a stasis field around the cauldron, the taller man herded Harry in front of him and directed him into a chair at the table. It took only a moment to summon Dobby, who produced a steaming kettle. Pressing a mug of broth into the hand of the increasingly green-tinged teen, Severus settled into his seat with his own hot tea. After several cautious sips, his husband lost most of the sick expression he wore, and Severus smiled at the sigh he heard from the younger wizard 

“The murtlap must properly reduce over the next week into a glutinous form before we can proceed,” the Potions master answered an unspoken question on Harry’s mind. “If all goes well, the potion should be ready for use the day before Halloween.”

Harry nodded, a kernel of hope flaring deep inside him. He had tried not to get excited when Healer McIntire had told them him scar contained Dark magic, but no physical matter. The possibility that Voldemort had unwittingly transferred part of his soul to him had made Harry heartsick every time he had allowed himself to dwell on the connection he shared with the bastard. To be actively doing something to relieve the pain felt good, but he was trying hard not to get his hopes up that this potion would work.

hpsshpsshpss

The two weeks that followed were perhaps the longest Harry had ever experienced. The visions sent by Voldemort became more frequent as the days wore on, coming at first in the form of nightmares when the teenager was able to catch a few hours of sleep, and progressing to waking periods of agony during the day. There was no doubt in any of their minds that Tom Riddle was determined to torture Harry into insanity. He managed to sleep only a few hours a day, and began to live more on the nutrition potions Severus fed him than the food that he turned around and vomited after each new vision hit him. His Occlumency skills now exceeded even Severus’, as did his determination that the Dark Lord would not see into his thoughts. 

It became apparent that whoever was providing information was indeed close to Harry, because Voldemort knew his class schedule, and taunted him about the class he was in when the vision was sent, hitting especially hard during Potions class. There were several days when the young man was simply too drained to attend classes, and that information was flung at him as well. Severus stalked up to Gryffindor Tower and demanded Minerva McGonagall use Veritaserum on Harry’s former dorm mates, who all volunteered to take the truth serum, proving that none of them had supplied information to the evil wizard.

Two days before Halloween, Harry, who had risen early after another nightmare, stepped out of the dungeon rooms he shared with his husband and started down the corridor towards the stairs. Neville and Luna, who had taken it upon themselves to be the ‘morning shift’ as they called it, had not yet arrived to collect him for classes. Pushing out between a group of third year Slytherins, Harry was startled to see Neville standing in the Entrance Hall arguing with a Ravenclaw witch who had been tagging along with the couple on several recent mornings. 

“You are not coming down with us, Camilla! I told you that the last time you tried to tag along!” 

Neville’s usually calm face was red with anger, and Harry glanced at the girl standing stubbornly beside a frowning Luna Lovegood. A dark-skinned girl with short, spiky black hair narrowed her small, dark eyes with distain.

“I was just walking with Luna, Longbottom, she said I could!”

“No,” Luna’s normally dreamy voice interjected sharply. “I actually told you I did not want you following me anymore. Harry is not available, no matter how big a crush you have! I only let you come along before because of your crying.”

Things snapped into place all at once in the Gryffindor’s mind. This girl had followed them before when Neville and Luna came down to pick him up, staying in the background, but definitely there. Camilla Clarke was one of Luna’s dorm mates, Neville had confided in him, and she had a huge crush on the Boy –Who –Lived. At the time, the knowledge had caused Harry to laugh hysterically. Neville had lectured him on manners, and a sheepish Harry had made it a point to be nice to the girl, not complaining when she began to hang around their group. As he watched, the teenager saw the witch’s hand slide down to where the end of her wand stuck out of the pocket of her robes.

 _‘Severus, I need you in the Entrance Hall please.’_

Harry sent the thought to his spouse as he stepped around the corner, mentally incanting _Petrificus Totalus_ as he waved his hand. The witch froze in place, and Harry levitated her wandlessly to keep her upright, indicating to Luna and Neville to walk with him as he surreptitiously moved the petrified Ravenclaw toward the dungeons stairway. Severus appeared beside Harry and took in the situation with one glance, and between them, they maneuvered Camilla into the empty Potions classroom at the end of the corridor. 

Explaining to his husband what had happened, Harry asked Luna to confirm when Camilla had expressed an interest in him. In her dreamy voice, the Ravenclaw witch told him that it had come to her after the first Hogsmeade weekend and confessed that she was hopelessly in love with Harry. Knowing Harry and her year mate were friends, she had begged Luna to introduce them. Luna had felt sorry for the girl, because she was aware of the bond between her friend and the Potions master, and knew that the men were happy together. She had let her sympathy lead to an invitation to Camilla to walk down to the dungeons when she and her boyfriend went to pick Harry up for class. From then on, the sixth year had lurked about every morning, waiting for them, following them close enough to catch snatches of conversation, which she would then ask Luna about later. 

The emerald eyes met the dark depths of cold, glittering obsidian. A shiver ran through the teenager when he saw a look on his beloved’s face that he never wanted to see again. They both knew the girl was the person supplying information to Voldemort, and while Harry’s mind automatically flew to the Imperius Curse as the cause, Severus’ took the darker thought of checking her left arm for the ugly tattoo. Sharing their thoughts through the bond, Severus could feel the wash of relief his mate felt knowing one of his friends had not betrayed him, even as they both realized what would happen when the witch failed to report on Harry’s morning activities. He almost growled when Harry thought he would continue to his classes, startling Luna and Neville, who could not help by cringe. Harry’s mildly reproachful look was met with a practiced sneer, and finally the pregnant teen relented, agreeing to return to their quarters, leaving Severus to deal with the Ravenclaw sixth year. Knowing that Hermione, who shared most classes with him, would collect his work and assignments for him, Harry returned to their chambers and began to work on an essay due for Charms the next day. The more he could finish before Voldemort struck, the less he would have to do later. 

It was not until after lunch that the evil wizard’s enraged reaction barreled into the Gryffindor with the force of a train. Having purposely retired to the bedroom to try and nap, Harry’s body bowed off the mattress in agony as wave upon wave of fire seared his scar, before the world went black.

hpsshpsshpss

Severus was in the midst of a lecture to a combined second year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class when pain hit him through the bond. He set his notes down on the desk, dismissed the class to the library, and fled through the door into his office, making his way hurriedly into their rooms. Harry appeared to be convulsing, his body arched rigidly, shaking violently as his hands fisted into the bedcovers. Summoning the potions he would need from the cabinet in the bathroom, Severus conjured a basin and threw his robes aside as he slid on to the bed. With the unfamiliar feeling of helplessness surging through him, the Potions master gathered his husband against his chest, his own head exploding with pain, and rocked side to side, trying to give Harry some reassurance. The spasms of pain seared through the younger man like flames licking at his nervous system, but Severus could not detect any specific vision or images that he might be seeing.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the younger man’s body slowly lost its rigidity and Severus gathered him even closer against his chest, the basin at the ready. It took only a few seconds before Harry lost the meager contents of his stomach and slumped back against his mate. Reaching for two of the potions vials sitting on the bedcovers, Severus pulled the cork out with his teeth and downed the pain reliever. Continuing to rock side to side, he adjusted the teenager so that he was positioned across his lap.

“Sev’rus?”

“I’m here, love.”

“I am going to kill the bastard.”

“Yes, we are, my Harry.” Severus pressed his cheek against the soft, unruly hair. “But for the moment I have potions for you to take, and then we are going to sleep while we have the chance.”

Neither man was aware of the mediwitch and the Headmaster as they arrived half an hour later to check on the pair. Finding the men blissfully, finally, asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, Poppy ran a quick scan over them, as she was sure both had suffered the wrath of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s fury when Albus informed her of the capture of the student spy. Knowing the topical potion would be ready in the morning, she fervently hoped it would be successful, as she was becoming gravely concerned for both Harry and Rion’s wellbeing if these attacks were not stopped.

hpsshpsshpss

Refreshed after the extra sleep, Harry was famished the next morning. Under the watchful eye of the Potions master and Madam Pomfrey, he enjoyed a hearty breakfast in the Great Hall for the first time in days. The potion was complete and cooling in Severus’ private lab, and the teenager was heartened that this would be the answer to stopping the incapacitating pain Voldemort took such pleasure in inflicting. The day passed quickly for Harry; he smiled and joked with Ron, Seamus, and Neville during their morning classes, and Hermione didn’t have the heart to reprimand him. 

Sitting between his best friends, the Gryffindor was even able to enjoy double Potions class that afternoon, ignoring the scowling, skulking hunk of the professor who hovered protectively over him during the brewing of a potentially dangerous Befuddlement Draught, which Hermione actually brewed while Harry prepared the sneezewort, scurvy-grass, and lovage, and Ron made notes on their progress. Harry had cast a shielding spell around himself and the cauldron and a containment charm as well, just in case anyone tried to throw something into the potion. Severus had also taken the precaution of casting a shielding charm around himself as a matter of routine during practicals, not taking any chances after the incident with Zabini.

That evening, with Poppy hovering at his side, Harry stretched out on the couch. A pillow cushioned his head as Severus knelt beside him, a vial of viscous paste the color of creamed peas in his hand. Pressing a kiss to the lightning bolt shaped scar, the Potions master dipped his finger into the goo and began to smooth it over the scar. Cool at first, the potion started to sting within a few minutes. Harry clamped his eyes shut, not knowing whether this was an expected reaction of the potion, but determined to not complain. 

Concentrating on the visual reactions of the effects of the potion on the Dark Magic lodged in the scar, Severus was astonished as the potion began to glow an iridescent green. Harry hissed in pain as his scar began to swell alarmingly. Flicking his wand, the Potions master summoned a flannel from the bathroom, dropping the vial to the floor to grab it when it flew to him.

‘ _Aguamenti!_ ’ 

He soaked the cloth with water before casting a warming charm on it, then tilted Harry’s head to the side and gently flooded the swollen flesh. Rinsing as much of the useless potion off as he could, Severus began to wipe the raised lump on his husband’s forehead as gently as possible until the glowing green gel had disappeared. Struggling to keep the disappointment and despair from seeping into the bond, he found that it didn’t matter, as a wave of those very emotions flowed freely from the teenager. Helping Harry sit up, he collapsed onto the couch and pulled his husband into his lap, feeling the tears the threatened to spill from both of them.

“Poppy,” he said in a voice that broke, “I believe Harry is either allergic to the potion or it reacted badly with this particular Dark magic. We will need something to reduce the swelling.”

The older woman laid a hand on the top of Harry’s head before hurrying out of the room.

“Tomorrow is Halloween, Severus, and the bastard’s going to do it again, I know it! I’m not sure how much of this I can take.”

Severus tightened his arms, trying to protect the young man who had become more precious to him than his own life, and the miracle he carried. “We’ll find a way, Harry, I promise. He’s not going to take you from me, this I swear to you!”

hpsshpsshpss

Halloween fell on a clear, crisp Friday that year, and the Feast that was served that evening was as spectacular as always. Floating candles and pumpkins decorated the Great Hall, and the Hall was loud with laughter and conversation as a wide variety of delicious foods of appeared in front of the students and staff. Harry smiled at the antics of a group of first years who roved between the tables handing out Muggle candies from a black plastic cauldron. It was refreshing to see representatives of every House in the little band, and he felt good that his year mates had started the trend toward reuniting all the Houses. As he looked around, he caught the eye of Neville Longbottom, tonight sitting with Luna at the Ravenclaw table, before glancing to the Slytherin table where Harry could see Ginny Weasley’s bright red hair flash as she threw her head back to laugh at something Draco Malfoy had said. 

A peculiar feeling of calm had settled over him that morning as he had sat meditating with Severus before breakfast that morning. They both knew that Voldemort would make a special effort to torture him tonight, on the sixteenth anniversary of his parents’ murder, and Harry’s sleep had been filled with the old nightmare of his parents dying in a flash of green light. Immediately upon waking, he had sunk into this magical core, dropping down to do his daily check on the growing ball of magic and flesh that was beginning to look like a baby in his abdomen. The magic surrounding the forming baby was thin enough for Harry to see a small figure about the length of his ring finger with visible arms and legs, and he had sent the image to his husband as he watched. As he had moved back toward his magical core, the teenager had remembered the night of the first attack, and how he had seen the red-black glow of Dark magic in his mind. 

It was then that the idea struck him, and Harry knew he had to at least try. There was a risk, he knew, of allowing Voldemort free access to his mind if what he was planning failed, as Harry would not have the strength to keep his barriers in place if he was overwhelmed. Severus had been overjoyed to see the image of their son that morning, but after that, he had withdrawn into himself, trying to prepare himself for what they both knew was coming. Harry had heard the whispers in the hallway of the towering rage the Potions master had been in all day, but had not had the chance to speak to his husband at all. This was not something he could do without speaking to Severus first, the teenager realized, as the dishes disappeared and the puddings appeared, he pushed back from the table and stood up. 

Exchanging glances with his best friends, the Gryffindor nodded once, and turned the clear green eyes towards the Head table, where they met the dark glaze. A prickling in his scar spurred him on as he moved towards the oak doors.

‘ _I think it’s time, Sev.’_

The dark-haired man stood instantly and moved to follow Harry out of the Great Hall, their most trusted friends following behind them. Those who knew of Rion’s existence had insisted on spending the evening in the couple’s dungeon rooms. Beckoning his husband into the bedroom, Harry waved his hand, casting a silencing charm, as his scar continued to burn. 

“I think I might know a way to stop this, Severus,” he said quietly, stripping off his school robes and uniform, “but I will need your help, I think.”

Severus followed his lead, changing out of his robes into soft trousers and a pullover. “How do you believe you will be able to accomplish that?”

“I was able to drop into my magic at the end of that first vision, and followed a blood red, almost black strand of magic that I believe was Voldemort.” Harry sat down on the side of the bed, clad in his sweat pants and cotton sweatshirt. “I think if I go in before the pain gets too bad, I might be able to snap the strand of Dark magic.”

Severus stood looking down at him, and the teenager could feel the apprehension sweeping through the older man. 

“Please, Severus,” he pleaded softly, “if you are going in with me, you will be able to pull us back if it goes bad.” Harry met the piercing obsidian gaze. “I have to try, Sev, I can’t go on the way we have been, you know that.”

Severus bowed his head, allowing his raven hair to fall forward and obscure the stark fear he could not keep off his face. Drawing a deep breath, even as he heard his beloved mate hiss in pain, and offering a prayer to whatever gods might protect fools and unborn children, he nodded quickly. Taking the silencing spell down with a wave of his hand, Severus called for the mediwitch and Headmaster as he slid onto the bed. Moving to the top of it, he braced himself against the pillows piled against headboard, and Harry crawled up to sit between his long legs, leaning back against the older wizard’s chest.

Quickly explaining what he planned to do, Harry pressed the heel of his hand against the still swollen scar. It had been inflamed and sensitive all day, no doubt a side effect of the allergic reaction he had suffered the night before. Poppy Pomfrey open her mouth to argue with him, but was stopped by Albus Dumbledore. The elderly wizard’s piercing blue eyes took in the set expressions on both men’s faces.

“You must do what you think is best, my boy, and we will be here if you need us.”

Taking a deep breath against the rapidly flaring pain and closing his eyes, Harry carefully sank into himself, feeling Severus’ presence go with him. He rechecked the barriers in his mind, sliding easily along the pathway that led to the center of his being, tuning out the outside world. Reaching inward, he arrived at his magical core, warming himself in the golden ball of raw magic; studying the silver entwined at the core and emerald green vines reaching up from their son, he pull the individual ropes of magic upward. Gently at first but with increasing strength, he gathered the silver, green and gold strands, weaving them together tightly. Pushing the strands in front of him, keeping them firmly joined, Harry followed the nerve synapses that channeled magic up through his body to his brain. Pushing the pure energy through the sealed corridors of his mind, he envisioned smooth walls that took on a golden glow as he moved through them, searching for the point that he would need to push out. The searing pain he felt was relegated to the edge of his consciousness.

The dark red glowing lightning bolt in the front of his brain loomed large, and Harry directed his magic slowly toward it. As he approached the area, he could see the interwoven areas of dark red and green, a glaring green that glowed eerily of the spell light the Killing Curse generated, and he inspected the point where they anchored themselves to his skull. In the midst of these strands pulsed an angry red-black strand, thicker than the other filaments of magic that tethered the Dark magic to him. Sliding around slowly, he gathered the ball of pulsating gold, silver, and emerald tendrils to him and gently enveloped the angry, evil mass in it. 

The reaction was instantaneous, as Harry could feel waves of agony pound against the golden energy. Concentrating totally on his magic, Harry ignored the pain and the effect it was having on his body. The teen focused everything he had on the woven ball of pure magic, adding the love flowing through him to the power working on eating through the strand, slowly dissolving it. Angry red energy slammed into the predominantly golden ball, and Harry struggled to maintain his concentration. Voldemort was becoming enraged by the knowledge that the Gryffindor was working on severing their link. Harry knew that he had to finish what he had started, or his mind and Severus’ would be left totally vulnerable to the evil wizard. With renewed purpose, he kept steady pressure on the golden force, a vague part of him registering the convulsions that had begun to rock the rest of his body. 

Little by little, he watched the thick, ugly strand disappear, and he knew that he had been right about which strand to isolate. Forged by hatred and a Killing Curse, that strand had grown thick and strong over the years, and had been the first part of Harry that had felt Voldemort growing stronger back in his fourth year. Harry could feel himself weakening, although his concentration never wavered from his task. Battered, the woven vine of magic was being bombarded by the waves of evil red energy, but he was almost there. Drawing on the last reserves of energy at his core and strength coming from the love he felt, he tried to reinforce the golden ball, but the pain was beginning to color it, turning the outer edge a dull yellow.

Reaching out for more support, Harry was eased and reassured by the presence at the periphery of his consciousness. Fresh warmth and strength flowed through him with an incredible feeling of love, strengthening his magic. The golden ball once again glowed iridescent, the silver and emerald strands pulsing fiercely within the gold, finally devouring the last of the red-black strand. The fury of the red force was incredible, but Harry had gained the strength to push it completely out of his mind, and suddenly feeling shaky, he slowly pulled himself back. Moving his way slowly back to the core of magic at his heart, Harry was surprised to see it glowing bright and strong.

Pulling out, awareness flooded back to him, and the pain slammed into him with a force like a wall of water. Every part of him pulsed and quivered with agony, and Harry had to force his eyes open. As he did, he became aware of many people gathered around him; the Headmaster’s hand splayed across his forehead, Remus gripped his left hand tightly, and Severus still cradled him against his chest, one hand spread over his heart while the other cupped the slight bulge at his waist. As Harry moved his eyes, the only part of him that seemed to be capable of independent movement, he saw that Madam Pomfrey held the Headmaster’s hand, with Ron, and Hermione in the middle, all of them linked together to where Remus gripped him. No explanation was necessary, and Harry knew that the extra strength that had helped him through his task had been the love of his soul mate and those dear ones gathered around them. 

“We did it!” he gasped out, his eyes sweeping the room before turning to meet the obsidian eyes, and Harry lifted a trembling hand to cup his husband’s pale cheek, knowing the man had suffered as much pain as he had. “I am finally free of that monster, Severus, thank you.” 

With a sigh, Harry gave into the beckoning darkness as Severus rocked him gently back and forth. Poppy Pomfrey shooed everyone else out of the bedroom as she tended to the couple, and a quiet celebration ensued in the sitting room. Albus Dumbledore didn’t think Severus would mind overly much if they sipped on a bit of his twelve-year-old single malt scotch.


	17. Of Legends, Ties, and Bonds

Madam Pomfrey confined the pair to bed for the entire weekend, threatening to sleep with them if they did not swear a Wizard’s Oath that they would do as she ordered. Harry’s main concern was for their baby, and Severus could feel how much the young man’s magic was depleted, not to mention the exhaustion after weeks of torment through the scar had deprived him of sleep. Harry dozed off and on the majority of the time, and passed the rest of the hours catching up on his class work. Severus was able to record in his journal the reactions of the potion he had made; although it had not been effective for Harry, it might help someone else. Dobby organized the house-elves to take care of the couple’s every need, much to Tiffy’s disgust. She made her displeasure known when she popped in with tea, scones and strawberry jam the next morning. 

Albus Dumbledore had visited Saturday afternoon with the mediwitch, who watched for any sign of residual reaction in the young wizard. Harry slept quietly, his head pillowed in Severus’ lap as the two older men spoke quietly. One hand carding through the soft, raven hair, the Potions master sipped at the tea his mentor had conjured and listened to news of the Order. The Headmaster was still attempting to ascertain through his sources whether Voldemort had been affected when Harry severed their link the night before. Casting _Muffliato_ on the sleeping Gryffindor, the older wizard explained that he believed the evil wizard might have been siphoning some of Harry’s magical energy through the curse scar, but had been unwilling to let the teenager know the link was that tightly connected to Voldemort.

Severus was momentarily infuriated at the thought that information of that sort had been kept from them, but as Dumbledore continued, he realized it was more theory than fact. Resolving to once again test his husband’s magical abilities as soon as he was better, the Slytherin returned to quietly listening to his mentor’s fears about where they could expect the next series of Death Eater attacks.

“I am concerned for the students who go home for the holidays this year, Severus,” the Headmaster said, as he wiped his half-moon spectacles on the sleeve of his brilliant blue robes. “How many of them will be targeted, either as victims or to receive the Mark? There must be a way we can persuade the both the students and their parents to allow them to stay at Hogwarts.”

The image of Harry in his dress robes from the Christmas of the Tri-Wizard Tournament leapt into his mind, and Severus smiled, remembering the awkward boy in the bottle-green robes trying so hard to act grown-up. 

“The Yule Ball of three years ago kept many of the students from going home, Albus. Why not host something similar this year?”

The Headmaster’s face seemed to radiate light as a gleaming smile light his lined face. “Severus that is a brilliant idea!” He became lost in thought for a moment. “We will hold it at the Winter Solstice, my boy, the weekend before Christmas!”

With a contemplative expression, Albus took his leave. Severus canceled the muffling spell as Harry stirred against him. Stretching, the younger wizard sat up slowly, accepting the cup of tea his mate handed him and sipping from it gingerly.

“Thank you. Was that Professor Dumbledore?” he asked sleepily, summoning his glasses from the bedside table.

“Indeed it was,” the Slytherin said as he settled back against the stack of pillows and tugged Harry against him. “He was contemplating a way to keep students here for the upcoming Christmas holidays. The Headmaster settled on holding a Ball.”

Harry wrinkled his nose; the memories of the one other dance he had attended were not been pleasant. “Oh, lovely,” he groused, bringing the teacup up for another sip.

The obsidian eyes gleamed at him, and the corners of Severus’ mouth twitched as he remembered the tale of horror Harry had told him about how he and Ron had tried to find dates to the last Ball, the fiasco of the dress robes the other boy had to wear, and the fight with Granger over Viktor Krum. 

“Truly, Harry, I do not believe you will have nearly as hard a time finding a date for this one.”

“Git,” his husband muttered, but the emerald eyes were aglow with love as Harry realized what Severus said was true. “Are you going to make me ask you formally…?”

The teacup disappeared, and the Gryffindor found himself pinned to the bed by his Slytherin husband. “Be careful, brat, or I might say no,” Severus growled, before swooping in to snog the younger man senseless.

hpsshpsshpss

In testing Harry’s magical power about a week after he had severed the link, both Severus and Albus were not surprised to find a marked increase. It was nothing as noticeable as the power surge that had come with his attaining majority, but overall, the young wizard had gain about a third more strength and endurance. Harry was able to withstand longer duels without becoming as drained as he had previously, and his shields were definitely stronger. The control he had learned before the term started served him well, as Harry was able to drop into his magical core and see the increase of the ball of glowing strands. Rion also seemed to have grown larger with the releasing of his father’s full magic, and Harry developed a noticeable bump in his abdomen. Luckily, his more flowing robes still hid it well.

Winter had set in with a vengeance and the snow began to pile up outside the castle as November progressed. The temperatures remained almost temperate for the time of year, just cold enough for the snow to fall and stay on the ground. Rarely a day passed without a snow flurry at some point, almost like the constant mist and fog they had endured off and on during that fall. Quidditch practice required a number of strong warming charms to keep the flyers in the air. Harry began wearing his contacts more and more, as his glasses would either ice up or steam up from the heat of his face. 

The annual Slytherin versus Gryffindor match was scheduled for the second Saturday of the month, and Harry had a few anxious moments as he prepared. Ron had been working the team hard, and several team members had grumbled about Harry’s lack of participation, including Jack Sloper, who had made his opinion known to all who cared to listen. Ron’s infamous temper had been moderated by a few words of reminder from Hermione, who attended the practices as a dutiful girlfriend should, and acted as a mediator for those disputes that would never have come up had their friend been there. The witch knew that the Boy-Who-Lived would never have been challenged in person, as no one doubted his ability as a Seeker, nor did Sloper really care about anything but the sheer joy of arguing. 

After a particularly heated argument over whether the Seeker had any bearing on how well a Beater might actually play, Ron had been pushed to his limit. He quietly told Sloper if he objected so strenuously to the practice schedule of someone who had never let his team down, and who had enough worries hanging over his head already in the form of a homicidal maniac Dark wizard, then he need not show up on the pitch again. The fourth year was intelligent enough to heed the rage he saw glimmering in the redhead’s eyes and backed down, careful to avoid the cold glare that Ginny was throwing him. The youngest Weasley had every bit as bad a temper as her brother, but was much more like her older brothers, Fred and George, who believed that a well-planned revenge was better than throwing a hex in anger. 

One afternoon after practice, Hermione fell into step beside him as Harry trudged towards the castle, which had become their normal routine — Harry was not about to shower in the changing rooms. Luna and Neville fell in on the other side of him as they approached the front courtyard.

“Harry, do you think we could start training the DA again?” Neville asked suddenly.

Blinking at the unexpected question, the teenager glanced at Hermione. She simply returned his inquisitive look. “I think we could do an advanced class if everyone wanted to, Neville, although I think we should ask Professor Lupin to be part of it. He is an excellent teacher, and I don’t want him to think we have put him in the same category as Umbridge.”

“I think you should still teach it though, Harry,” Luna said in her strange dreamy voice, “we all learned so much from you both fifth and sixth years. I think everyone in the DA got an Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding OWL last term, as well as the term you sat them.”

Her enthusiasm brought a smile to Harry’s lips, and he promised to think about it as they dropped him off at the entrance to their rooms. Once inside, the Seeker leaned back against the door with a groan. He was tired, sweaty, and smelly. He grimaced as he straightened, his Quidditch gloves slipping from under his arm as he walked toward the bathroom. Stripping off his practice uniform, the teenager dropped it in a heap on the bedroom floor, stepping over the small pile to pad barefoot into the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, he adjusted the water so that a stream of hot, steamy water pounded his sore shoulders, and he leaned against the wall with a moan.

He had no idea how long he stood there before a familiar pair of arms slid around his waist, tugging him back against his mate’s lean form. One long-fingered hand splayed across his chest and the other cupped the gently rounded bulge in his abdomen. 

“Rough practice?” The silky voice in his ear sent a shiver of delight through him, and his body instantly reacted to it.

“Yes,” Harry answered, but it came out more like a moan, as his husband gently braced him against the shower wall.

Taking the homemade liquid soap in his hands, Severus began to massage the tense shoulders, working his thumbs into the knots around the younger man’s shoulder blades, then continuing across the plane of his back. Slowly, he soothed the aching muscles, taking time to plant a kiss on each vertebra, until finally he dropped to his knees and kneaded the firm muscles of the delectable arse. Sliding his fingers along the crack, Severus meticulously rubbed and cleansed every inch of his lover, listening with pleasure to the moans of ecstasy coming from above him, holding Harry still as he tried to push back against him. Moving down each leg, Severus used the teen’s hips to turn him around, and kissed the tip of the already leaking cock. 

Bringing his hands up, Severus caressed the swell low in Harry’s abdomen, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the mound that was his son, ignoring the very needy erection pressing into the underside of his chin. Moving slowly upward, much to Harry’s distress, the older man resumed his massage. Bypassing the one area that he knew needed the most attention, the Potions master smiled when the younger man whimpered, soothing him with softly spoken words as his hands continued to work up his mate’s arms. Pouring a palmful of shampoo, Severus turned his back to the steaming water and slowly worked a rich lather into his lover’s wild hair. 

Tipping Harry’s head back to wash the soap out, Severus rinsed any residue off the rest of the younger man’s body with slow strokes. Pressed to his limits, Harry reversed their positions with a quick motion, and the Potions master stood silently, allowing his husband to wash him with torturous slowness. As he was turned, Severus braced himself against the wall and bent at the waist, pressing back into the fingers that had begun to stroke his arse. The fingers stilled and he moaned with need, causing a rush of surprised arousal to filter through the bond.

“Sev?” 

Harry felt like his chest was too tight to draw in a breath as the meaning of his mate’s actions became apparent. Severus gave his answer by again pushing back, and Harry’s breath hitched even as he continued to stroke his fingers along the cleft. He did not often top, preferring to submit to the tender and sure ministrations of the older man, and his fingers trembled as he began to slowly prepare his partner with the vial of lubricant they kept in the shower. Carefully, Harry eased into the tight heat, grasping tightly to the other man’s hips, thanking the growth spurt he had gone through the past summer for giving him the height necessary to make this possible. Shifting until a gasp from the Slytherin told him he had the right angle, Harry then began to thrust into him in earnest, the incredible feeling of being sheathed inside the man he loved tightening the coil inside him.

The noises Severus made encouraged him, and Harry was lost, gripping the soft skin tightly as he snapped his hips back and forth. The bond between them hummed, and he could feel his lover rushing toward his climax, the electric charge of the stimulation of the other man’s sweet spot, and the feel of their powerful magic mingling. With a final thrust, Harry exploded into the velvety depths as Severus shouted his completion. Stretching over the older man’s back, Harry wrapped his arms around his husband and gently pulled him up, only to lean against him as Severus hugged the wall.

“Bloody hell, Severus!” Harry panted, feeling the rumble of laughter as it began in his chest and swept through him mate.

“Indeed,” came the still slightly breathless response, bringing a smile to the Gryffindor’s lips.

hpsshpsshpss

The Friday evening before the game found the two archrival seekers sitting at the table in the Potions master’s private chambers, going over several promising spells with Severus and Hermione. Ron and Ginny were still on the pitch, practicing with the balance of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They were all still concerned about the recent increase in Dementor activities all over Britain, knowing that there was little that could be used against the vile creatures. Draco had found a potion that could be used against the Dementors, but it required contact with the skin in order to be effective, and none of them wanted to get that close to one of the soul-sucking creatures.

Harry rubbed the side of his head, causing his normally disheveled hair to stick up even further. “Oh for Merlin’s sake, why can’t we just give everyone a Cheering Potion to carry in case they come across a Dementor?”

Severus carried a tea tray in from the kitchenette and placed it on the table in front of Hermione, who was trying to hide a smile, and indicated she should pour before moving to stand behind the younger man. Sliding a hand into the wild tangle of hair, he smoothed it with his fingers, knowing it would have a similar taming effect on his husband’s temper. The fireplace in the sitting area flared green, and the Headmaster stepped out, his mouth set in a hard line. Accepting a cup of tea, he dropped rather heavily into the chair beside Hermione.

“It would seem that Voldemort has decided to terrorize orphanages and schools, thus ensuring the most panic from both worlds.”

The words were flat, and the very lack of inflection in his voice was out of character for the Headmaster, Harry thought. He watched the play of emotions across the venerable face before being consigned to a corner of the elderly wizard’s mind. Although thankful for the absence of pain and torture his link to the Dark Git had caused, Harry felt a bit of frustration at not knowing what Voldemort was up to. The hand that rested lightly on his shoulder tightened a fraction in reassurance, and Harry looked up, meeting the obsidian gaze. 

“It is not time yet, Harry, you must have patience.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, silently acknowledging to his husband that he knew the truth of those words. That did little to lessen the frustration.

“Did he attack Muggle or magical children, Professor?” Hermione asked quietly, knowing that either was equally horrendous.

“Both, actually, Miss Granger,” the Headmaster said quietly. “They targeted any child who might have latent magical abilities, and did not seem to care about their origins. Dementors do not stop to ask if their victims are half-blood or Muggle-born.”

“And in attacking children, both communities are hit where it hurts the most,” Severus added, his thoughts turning to a particular unborn child. “Is there nothing we can do, Albus?”

“The Ministry is working on providing additional security, as is the Muggle Prime Minister. These attacks are being treated as if they are terrorist attacks, as it truth they are. However, the fact that primarily wizarding children are being attacked leads me to believe there is something more sinister at play.”

Emerald eyes met the clear blue as Harry’s mind caught on a bit of a memory. “Not another prophecy, Headmaster?” 

The eyes bore into his, and Harry automatically checked his mental shields as he maintained the eye contact. “No, my dear boy, not a prophecy, actually, more a legend. This one is attributed to Merlin, and is a story about the raising of an army of children to fight an evil Dark wizard.”

The groan that escaped Severus was involuntary, and Harry was surprised to feel a touch of panic through the bond. Glancing up, he caught a look horror flit across the normally impassive features of the Potions master. Harry stood and grasped the older man’s hand, guiding him down into the chair he had just vacated.

“Severus, what is it?”

The onyx eyes held a haunted, painful look that concerned Harry, and he crouched down beside his husband. There was a slight tremble in the hand that reached out to cup his cheek, and the teenager did his best to send reassurances to his bonded, ignoring the silver-gray eyes that bore into the back of his head. Draco was protective of his Head of House, and Harry had no doubts his rival was sincere about protecting Severus.

“It is the same legend the Dark Lord held such faith in when he gained power the first time, and it was part of what convinced him to go after you when Trelawney made the Prophecy.” The note of anguish in the older wizard’s voice cut into Harry’s heart, and he knew Severus was remembering his role in relaying the first part of those words to Voldemort.

“You didn’t know what he was going to do, love. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Indeed, Severus,” Dumbledore echoed Harry’s thoughts, “and when you realized his intent, you came to me. It was Peter Pettigrew whose actions betrayed and killed his friends, not the information you gave Voldemort.”

“Ah, Professor,” Hermione finally spoke up, “is there anymore information on this army of children?”

The gray head tilted to one side, the blue eyes losing focus for a moment as the aged man sat in deep thought. “As I recall, Miss Granger, the legend tells of an army of children, brought together and trained by a powerful Light wizard to fight an evil Dark wizard. The legend tells how the innocence and pureness of heart of the wizard and his army handily defeat the Dark wizard and his followers.”

Whatever had been hovering at the end of his consciousness suddenly fell into place, and Harry leapt to his feet. His vision grayed as vertigo hit him, and he swayed for a moment, only to be pulled into Severus’ lap. It took him a few seconds to regain his voice.

“The DA, Professor!” he exclaimed hoarsely, looking up to meet the blue eyes. “We have already started training an army of children!”

Hermione gasped as she realized the truth of this statement, grasping Draco’s arm forcefully, as Severus tightened his hold on his husband. For once, Albus Dumbledore looked flummoxed as he took in the meaning of Harry’s words, and realized the implication of yet another prophecy of Merlin coming to fruition based on the young Gryffindor’s actions. As amusing as it was to watch the play of emotions across the man’s face, Harry had to struggle not to be overwhelmed as he thought of the children who had been killed and injured that day in a maniac’s quest for power. 

“Don’t!” Severus growled in his ear. “It is NOT your fault; do NOT take on that guilt as well, Potter!”

Burying his head in the warmth of his mate’s neck, the teenager took a steadying breath as he heard Hermione quietly talking to Draco, explaining. The Slytherin had agreed not two days ago to join and help train the DA, as they wanted to open it to all students third year and up. Although Severus was supportive of their intent, he was less than thrilled with the idea of Harry actively teaching defensive spells or dueling with the others while he was pregnant, and they had been working on a compromise that would have both Severus and Remus assisting. The Headmaster was speaking quietly to Severus, and Harry, content to feel the rumble of the older man’s voice, let his mind wander back to the problem of the magical children being preyed upon by Voldemort. An idea began to form in the back of his head as the teenager slowly relaxed, safe in his lover’s arms.

hpsshpsshpss

The next day dawned clear and cool. A light breeze blew from the north, as the students and staff made their way down to the Quidditch pitch. Severus walked down between Albus and Minerva, as was the tradition when the two Houses played each other. Remus Lupin strolled on the Headmaster’s left in companionable silence as they made their way into the staff box to watch the game. Eyes sweeping the area out of habit, the Head of Slytherin House noted two unfamiliar figures strolling along the edge of the Forbidden Forest and tensed. He only relaxed when he saw the unmistakable bald head of Kingsley Shacklebolt appear beside them, and realized that they were part of the Auror squad.

As the two teams took to the field, Severus’ thoughts turned back to the conversation he had with Harry after the others had left the night before. His young husband wanted to house the orphans at highest risk for Voldemort’s attacks at Snape Manor until a secure place could be arranged for them. The warding on the Manor would be under the supervision and protection of the Order of the Phoenix, as both men agreed that the Ministry would not be involved. It was an excellent use for the large house that had been such a nightmare for him during his youth; maybe this would change his feelings about living there. They had met with Albus this morning for breakfast, laying the idea out for him, and he had been extremely pleased, if the wild twinkling of his eyes was any indication. The large book on the Deputy Headmistress’ office would help identify the children by name, and Albus was certain that Molly Weasley could be persuaded to take on the care and feeding of the children as they were introduced to the magical world. 

The crowd roared, drawing Severus’ attention back to the game, and the Gryffindor section sprang to their feet screaming. The goal brought them back into the lead, which had gone back and forth between the teams, and he had to grab the back of Minerva’s cloak to keep her from climbing on the seat. The game continued to be fierce, because Slytherin was determined not to allow the Gryffindors the win that would ensure them the Quidditch Cup again. The play became increasingly rough, but Ginny Weasley still scored goal after goal, putting her team up by fifty points. The Potions master flashed the appropriate smirk at the Gryffindor Head when his team scored two retaliatory goals in rapid succession. 

Looking back toward the pitch as the crowd gasped, Severus watched as the scarlet and gold clad form of his husband dropped into a steep dive, apparently headed straight for the base of the center Slytherin goal. Harry was a blur as he leaned over the Firebolt, streaking at an unbelievable speed across the pitch. Doing his best to keep his apprehension from flowing through the bond, Severus found his arms grabbed from either side and behind, where Lupin had sat, holding him firmly in his seat. Helpless, he watched as Harry leveled off, keeping just ahead of the pursuing Draco Malfoy, and launched himself off to the side about five feet above the ground. Hitting the ground in a shoulder roll, Harry bounced to his feet with the fluttering snitch visible in his hand, his smile radiant enough to light the entire castle. An ear-splitting roar sounded though the stadium.

The wave of exhilaration he felt through the bond warred with the relief that made Severus weak. Releasing the death-grip he had on the seat, he shook off the hands that had restrained him and gathered his cloak around him like a shield. Throwing a glare designed to make first years flee in terror, he swept from the stands, hoping his stride covered the shaking of his knees.

“Idiotic Gryffindor child! He is never, ever getting on that bloody broom again.” The feared Potion Master swore under his breath as he headed to his dungeons and a good stiff drink.

Harry appeared in their quarters less then a half an hour later, sweat-drenched and still dressed in his Quidditch uniform, his face split ear to ear with a triumphant grin, and Severus made him suffer as he reassured himself that every bit of his husband was indeed fine, excruciatingly slowly.


	18. Snape Manor

It was the morning after the Quidditch match that Harry broached the idea that had been forming in the back of his mind. Curled up against Severus, his head resting on the older man’s shoulder, Harry gently ruffled the silky patch of chest hair with stroking fingers. His mind was engrossed in pondering the best way to broach the subject and he jumped when a warm hand closed over his, stilling the nervous movement.

“Just say it, love, and be done,” the deep voice told him with a hint of amusement.

Smiling at the perception of his mate, Harry turned his head to press a kiss into the warm flesh. “I would like to change our plans just a bit, Severus, and open Snape Manor to as many of the orphaned children as we can take. I know we talked before about waiting before we did this, but the need has become critical. Any students who seek sanctuary can stay at Grimmauld Place until we can get one of the other properties ready, or even find on more suited to buy and…”

“Harry,” his husband interrupted his rambling, “I think that is an excellent idea, as there has only been one student who has come to me about staying for the holidays so far.”

Levering himself up, the emerald eyes gleamed as the Gryffindor swooped in and took the older man’s lips in an enthusiastic kiss.

It was a good bit later, over a delicious brunch served by a beaming Tiffy in front of the fireplace that the couple went over the logistics of Harry’s idea. The extensive renovation of the Manor was almost completed, with several of the rooms already enlarged and turned into dormitory style bedrooms, so it was just a matter of needing minor modifications. A large nursery would need to be added, along with a play area, and a classroom setting. The decision was made to ask Albus Dumbledore about helping to staff the facility, and strengthening the protective fields around the Manor.

A fire call to the Headmaster verified he was in, as the couple Flooed up to meet with him. The Headmaster slowly stroked his beard as Harry laid out their plans, and what they believed they would need in the way of assistance to get the approval of the Ministry of Magic, and protect the children. The idea won instant approval from the Headmaster, who was the only one that knew they had the monetary resources to accomplish everything.

“Excellent idea, my boys, and one assured to infuriate Voldemort,” he told them, the clear blue eyes twinkling merrily, “I do believe Molly Weasley would make an appropriate choice to head this endeavor. She certainly has the necessary experience with children!”

Arrangements were made, and Severus insisted on immediately owling their solicitor as well as the wizard in charge of the renovations. Dumbledore agreed to deal with the Ministry on the approval to move the children, and sent word to their friends to join them, in their chambers after lunch. Scratching out several notes, the Headmaster called for Fawkes, who took them as well as the ones Severus had written, and disappeared in a flash of flame.

The majority of the afternoon was spent bent over the table in the little dining area pouring over plans and diagrams of the Manor. Hermione suggested announcing their intentions to the public simultaneously with moving the children to prevent any further attacks, and left to contact Rita Skeeter when both Harry and Severus agreed. Draco knew of another large manor owned by a Wizarding family that had been sitting empty not far from the Manor, and he and Ginny headed to the library to see if they could find out who owned it. Ron and Remus added their suggestions as they went over what they wanted to do.

“Why not reserve a bedroom or two for students seeking sanctuary or Order members who need a place to rest or recover?” Remus suggested. “It would give the children a bit of exposure to other witches and wizards in a safe environment, as some of the kids are going to be scared to death of magic at first.” 

The others returned as the discussions continued as the others trickled back in, and Dobby popped in with tea for everyone. It was a productive afternoon, and the teenagers especially became wrapped up in the plans that would make a positive impact on the lives of children who had already been through a lot. Severus sat back down on the couch as the discussion continued, and pulled Harry into his lap, smiling as his husband snuggled into his chest as he continued to bandy about ideas to introduce the children to magic. A fierce wave of pride swept through him as he watched his husband’s animated face, and he knew they would make this work, for Harry’s sake.

hpsshpsshp

The next two weekends were spent setting up dormitories and nursery at Snape Manor, as the bound pair prepared to start housing the orphans who were at risk, with Molly Weasley installed as the director. In a push to ensure the safety of the Muggle children in orphanages around the country, Hermione had arranged the interview with Rita Skeeter for just before the children were scheduled to arrive. The reporter jumped at the chance for another exclusive interview, especially delighted when the fearsome Potions master joined in, standing like a sentinel behind his husband’s chair. Harry wore loose cut day robes in the bottle-green color that so enhanced his eyes, and made a point of remaining seated throughout the entire session. 

Laying out a brief over-view of their plans for any of the orphans whose names appeared in the ancient book of magical children that was housed at Hogwarts, Harry quietly told the witch that the siblings of each magical child would also be included. 

“It does not matter to us who the parents of these children were, or their political leanings, they will all be welcomed into Snape Manor,” Harry told her in response to a question about the orphans of Death Eaters.

Rita nodded at the information with a knowing smile, the young man sitting before her had not changed in the three years since she first met him. Harry was gracious as she tried to lead the questions delicately towards the man standing behind him, and the reported rumors of their marriage. Putting her off gently but firmly, the Gryffindor cocked his head at the flamboyant witch. 

“I will tell you what, Miss Skeeter, write an article that will make the rest of the country’s orphanages safe for the children who had already suffered the loss of their parents, and let Voldemort know that he can’t get to the children like himself who have been dumped into Muggle facilities, and I will promise you an exclusive interview with Severus and myself when we are ready to announce our plans.”

Looking like she had been handed the keys to Gringotts, the reported scribbled away, promising a finished story to coincide with the opening of Snape Manor that Saturday. Harry smiled and nodded as Severus escorted Rita from the small room adjacent to the Great Hall. Standing and stretching, Harry surveyed the chamber, as he remembered the last time he had been in here, just before the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament when the Champions families had arrived. A small smile graced his face as he thought of how Molly and Bill Weasley had taken the time from their lives to be there as his family. A wave of sadness swept through him, though, as he remembered the Diggorys and how proud they had been of Cedric that day.

“Stop letting the guilt over something you weren’t responsible for eat at you, Harry,” Severus told him quietly, standing closely behind him, and Harry let himself lean into the warm for a moment, before straightening.

“It sneaks up on me sometimes, Sev, “the younger man told his husband as he turned to follow him out of the room. 

A grunt from the stoic Potions master was the only verbal reply, but Harry could feel the warmth and reassurance through their bond, and hid a smile. It was Severus’ free period just after lunch on Wednesday, and Harry was excused from his double Transfiguration lesson that afternoon, so they headed towards their chambers in the dungeons. Nodding to the Bloody Baron as they passed the hidden entrance to the Slytherin’s common room, a warm hand enfolded itself around his as they stepped over the threshold into their sitting room. The enchanted window on the far wall showed heavy gray skies and the evidence of a stiff breeze roughening the surface of the lake, with the black waters seemingly crowned in a froth of foam. 

Taking off his robes, Harry hung them over the back of the couch, glad that he did not have to return to class for another hour. Severus stopped to kiss his husband soundly, before he continued through the door into his office, glancing back at the young man still gazing out the window. The past few weeks of relatively undisturbed sleep and eating well, had done much to remove the haunted look in Harry thin face, bringing healthy, glowing skin and a hint of roundness to the angular cheekbones. His hand resting on the swell of his abdomen, the teenager moved to the sofa where a tea tray already sat waiting for them.

“How in the world do they know?” He muttered, shaking his head at the efficiency of their house-elves.

“Indeed,” Severus answered with a faint smile, knowing how every one of the diminutive little creatures adored his husband, and went on through as his next class started in less than ten minutes.

hpsshpsshpss

Word of their endeavor did indeed leak out, with a small banner on the bottom of the _Evening Prophet_ Friday afternoon that read: **Boy-Who-Lived Vows to Save All Magical Orphans! Exclusive interview with Harry Potter in Tomorrow’s _Daily Prophet_!**

Severus was teaching his last class of the afternoon when a silver phoenix burst through the solid stone wall, and then disappeared in a flash of metallic flame, dropping a piece of parchment on his desk. An unusually terse note from Albus Dumbledore requested he summon Harry to their rooms as soon as classes were over. Clamping down with iron control on the wave of apprehension that surged through him, the Potions master curtly told his sixth year NEWT class to finish their potions and clean up. His fingers slid up his left sleeve to stroke the hidden bonding bracelet around his wrist. The warm of the enchanted metal reassured him, and he was able to concentrate on sending a calm message to his husband to meet him in their chambers. 

Harry had felt the uneasiness that the older man could not hide through their bond, and moved quickly when class let out, with Ron and Hermione hard pressed to keep up with him. He flung himself into the room as soon as the door opened automatically to his magical signature, his friends on his heels. All three of them stopped when they say the Potions master, sans teaching robes, standing with the Headmaster, in front of the fireplace.

“Severus? What is it?” Harry set his book bag down near the older man’s desk and moved slowly across to where his soul-mate stood.

Albus Dumbledore beckoned Ron and Hermione over as well, shutting the door behind them with a wave of his hand. A tea tray appeared on the low table in front of the fireplace, as Severus tugged Harry down on to the couch with him, nestling the teen into his side, as Hermione, ever the practical one, began to pour tea into cups.

“It appears that Voldemort has his own sources with in the press, Harry, and somehow became aware of the article Miss Skeeter has written for tomorrow’s paper.”

Harry felt confused and glanced at Severus as he pressed a tea cup into his hand. “I am not surprised, sir, although I thought we want him to?”

The white head nodded as he accepted his tea. “Yes, however, it was his reaction that concerns me, as they continue to get more and more brazen as Voldemort slips further into his obsession with your death, Harry.”

Setting the untouched cup down, Harry straightened his shoulders and waited.

“Voldemort and a contingent of Death Eaters attacked Godric’s Hollow this afternoon,” the clear eyes met his directly and Harry could read the anger in the depths. “The property itself is hidden under the Fidelius Charm, with me as the secret-keeper, so he was not able to find it. Instead, the graveyard just outside the small village was desecrated, and the headstones from your parents’ graves were destroyed.”

Harry gasped at the pain that stabbed at him at the Headmaster’s quiet announcement, trying to rationalize that fact that it was just a couple of granite blocks which could be replaced, but a chill permeated his soul as Severus pulled him across his lap. “The graves, sir, were they…”

“No, Harry,” Dumbledore assured him quietly, “the graves were spelled to be impervious to penetration, as I felt that there were Death Eaters fanatical enough to attempt that right after Voldemort’s first fall.”

“And the village, sir, was it also attacked?”

The blue eyes looked away, before the elderly wizard answered. “Yes, the inhabitants were able to evacuate a majority of the people while Voldemort was in the graveyard, but there were several people hurt and three killed, as well as the village itself burned.”

The emerald eyes flared with anger, all but glowing with the force of the young man’s emotions and power. “Will you please arrange for the village to be rebuilt, the money to be taken out of our vault?”

Harry felt his husband’s agreement, and relaxed into the embrace as the Headmaster assured him he would handle the task. It was a subdued Harry that sat with his husband and friends that evening, going over last details for the opening of the Manor. His thoughts kept drifting to the immense pain and suffering the bastard had caused him all his life, the pain that had become a part of his every day existence, and was revisited every time a choice in his life was taken from him, every time someone was hurt because of him. Severus could feel his downward spiral, despite his attempts to hide it, and sent everyone away.

Settling him into their bed, cocooned in darkness, Severus lowered all his shields and invited Harry to do the same, sharing the ache deep inside him. Allowing himself to cry, finally, in the safety and security of his husband’s arms, it seemed to Harry he cried forever. The release of so much emotion was cathartic and the tears cleansing, as he was rocked gentle into an exhausted sleep.

hpsshpsshpss

Harry insisted on being at the Manor that Saturday morning, the last in the month of November, to greet each of the children as they arrived by Floo or portkey in the formal entry room set up off the main hall, despite the attack. He understood all too well how bewildering it would be to those Muggle-raised with the sudden introduction to the magical world. Knowing that everyone else would be wearing wizard’s robes, Harry had chosen to dress casually in black, low slung Muggle jeans and a green Weasley jumper that accommodated his expanding waistline. Severus joined him, in tailored charcoal trousers and a soft cream colored cashmere sweater, and Molly Weasley sat at a small table at the end of the room near the doorway with cookies and dormitory assignments.

The large house had been converted to accommodate fifty children, with several more of the great rooms being turned into Hogwarts style dormitories for the smaller children and smaller sharing arrangements for the older children, in the hope of providing them with some privacy as they approached the age they would enter Hogwarts. There would be a classroom where various Hogwarts professors, selected seventh year students, and Order members would be teaching the school aged children the basics of reading, writing, and mathematics. 

Severus sipped on a cup of tea as he watched his young mate greet the children as they arrived. By prearrangement, they came through on their own or the youngest ones, in the arms of an older child, thus limiting the access to the Manor to any outsiders. The Skeeter woman had kept her promise, and the article in the morning Prophet had been poignant and truthful, without being maudlin, and Severus had to acknowledge the usefulness of having a member of the press on their side. The renovations had breathed life into the damp, dank house he remembered from his childhood, new windows added to let in more light, and the freshly painted walls in pale pastels warmed in tones of yellows, blues, and greens. The new carpeting, and refinished hardwood floors added to the fresh, welcoming look, making it functional, as well as elegant.

A pair of little girls, no more than four, appeared at the appointed time with the portkey dropping them abruptly to the floor as they landed. These two dark haired, dark skinned children at least appeared to have been well cared for, dressed in clean clothing and each holding on to a bag of belongings. He stepped forward as Harry knelt to scoop one of the girls into his arms, soothing her as she cried. The Slytherin bent down and gently set the second child on her feet, brushing her tiny dress off as he checked her for injuries. He continued to hold her hand as Harry welcomed them, idly wondering how closely the obvious siblings were related to Blaise Zambini, as he noted the resemblance to his attacker. Both girls eyes had widened when the one Harry held pointed out his scar, and he thought his husband’s smile a tad on the melancholy side as he handed the youngsters off to the Weasley matriarch.

Harry looked up as Severus grasped his hand, the dark eyes following the two latest arrivals as Missus Weasley escorted them through the arched doorway into the hallway that ran the length of this wing of the house. Making their way back into the table that sat off the left side of the fireplace, Harry re-warmed their tea with a wave of his hand. Taking the biscuit his mate pushed into his hand, the teen chewed it thoughtfully as he sipped on the sweet, milky tea. They had greeted about forty children over the past three hours, thirty-five of them magical, two squibs, and three non-magical siblings, and should only have a few left to welcome. Absently, he slid his hand under his jumper and settled it over his son, enjoying the tingle of magic that reassured him that his own baby was safe. Severus leaned down and kissed him, sliding his arm around the younger man as he pulled him into a brief hug.

The fire flared green and a dark-haired boy of nine or ten stumbled out, carrying a toddler who clung to him frantically. Both looked terrified, their thin faces dirty, their appearance unkempt, and the tattered clothing spoke volumes to Harry. He stepped forward quickly, steadying the boy with a hand on his arm, not removing it as the child flinched away from the contact. The baby buried its face in the older boy’s neck, one bright eye the color of an iris in full bloom kept a wary watch on him.

“Hello, my name is Harry,” he said softly, “welcome to Snape Manor.”

The eyes that looked up at him from under a fringe of straight dark brown hair were the same deep iris blue, and wide with apprehension.

“My name is Keven Connor and this is my brother Keenan,” the boy glanced around nervously, skittering back to Harry after seeing Severus behind him. “What is this place?”

Lowering himself to his knees, Harry brought himself to eye level with the older boy and met his eyes, as he placed his other hand lightly on the toddler’s back. The baby peeked out at him, and smiled shyly, ducking his head against his brother’s shoulder.

“I am sorry, Keven, you were supposed to be told before you came. This is a place for special children, where you and your brother will be taken care of, given all the food you can eat, and loved. This is your new home.”

The boy scoffed at the words, cynicism etched in the suddenly hard features. “I am not a little kid anymore, and you don’t need to lie to me like everyone else.”

Harry smiled gently in the face of the hostility. “Keven, I understand that you have not had an easy time, I was left on my relatives door step when I was younger than Keenan, grew up sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs, and wearing my cousin’s hideous cast offs. Food was a luxury to me, and they hated me because I was a freak, because I could make funny things happen.”

Kevin studied his face intently, his mind no doubt mulling over what Harry had said, as Keenan wiggled to get down. Setting the younger child on his feet, Kevin continued to hold Harry’s eyes.

“Are you going to try and take Keenan away from me, like everyone else?”

“No,” Harry said softly, “I think we can arrange to keep you together. Does Keenan make things happen yet?”

The boy relaxed finally at Harry’s words, and nodded in answer to his question, smiling tentatively as the Gryffindor stood up. Patting the youngster on the shoulder, Harry turned toward where Molly Weasley sat waiting, only to stop suddenly as he took in the scene that greeted him. Young Keenan had toddled over to stand in front of Severus, who was silently watching, his hands clasped behind his back. The tot’s eyes swept up the long length of the Potions master, and a tiny, grubby hand reached out and tugged at his trousers. 

When Severus looked down at him, the baby gave him a gummy smile. “Up!” he demanded, lifting his arms.

As Harry watched, his own eyes wide, the tall man reached down and gingerly picked the child up, bring them face to face. The toddler studied the man for a moment, before reaching out a hand and patting him on the cheek, before sliding his arms around his husband’s neck and hugging him, babbling all the times.

“Keenan like that man,” Keven said with a grin.

As Harry brought the older brother over and introduced him to his husband, he found his eyes suspiciously moist. Severus, of course, remained cool and elegant looking despite the sprite bouncing in his arms as they introduced the Connor brothers to Molly Weasley. Hiding a smile when Keenan demanded the Slytherin carry him up to the room he would share with his bother, Harry sat down on a soft couch he conjured and placed in front of the fire.

His hand slid across the curve of his abdomen, dropping below the slight mound to cradle it in. Poppy had come by that morning to accompany them to the Manor, but had made him lie down first for a quick exam. Just a couple days into his second trimester, Poppy had told them that Rion was developing faster than a normal fetus would, based on the fact that this was a magically sustained pregnancy, and the carrier was the most powerful wizard in a millennium. The baby’s growth was more equivalent of fifteen to sixteen weeks along, as opposed to the thirteenth week he was actually in. Poppy had told then that their son was about the size of Harry’s fist, and he should be able to feel Rion moving in the next several weeks. She also warned them that it was her believe that Harry would deliver early, possible as early as March, instead of May.

‘We also believe that this actually starts a timer to the final battle’, Severus had said the night they announced the pregnancy to their friends, and Harry found that he knew for certain this was true. With absolute clarity, the heir of Merlin knew the time was rapidly approaching for the final battle with Voldemort. Rion was growing faster and stronger each day and both Severus and he could feel the child’s magic weaving through them. A hand over his tummy could feel the tingle of powerful magic, as Hermione had told him when she had don just that the week before.

Harry frowned, his hand pressed against the bulge, trying to fathom whether they were ready of not to face what was coming. The DA, the army of children of Merlin’s legend he believed, continued to train hard and included students from every house, with Draco and Hermione heading it, and Severus and Remus guiding them. Harry had trained hard as well, learning how to wield the great powers he had been gifted with. He did not yet feel he was proficient with Merlin’s staff, but it felt instinctively comfortable in his hands, as did the wand hidden up his sleeve. His own phoenix feather and holly wand, the wand useless against the Dark Lord, rode in a special pocket in his jeans. 

With a frown, Harry wondered when the attack would come, and how Voldemort would breech the wards around Hogwarts. Because he knew with the same certainty he knew the attack was coming, that it would take place in the castle; the one place Tom Riddle had ever felt was home, and the place that Albus Dumbledore had denied him, when he refused to make the young wizard the DADA teacher all those years ago. Would he be able to do what he had to do? 

A warm hand touched his arm and startled him out of his thoughts; reassurance flowed through the bond as his husband settled on the couch beside him. Emerald met onyx and Harry knew that he had been broadcasting his thoughts through their link. In an imitation of young Keenan, Harry held his arms out to the older man, seeking the reassurance only a physical touch could provide. Sighing as he steeled into Severus’ embrace, he kissed the warm throat his face was pressed into.

“It will be all right, my love, and no matter the outcome, we will always be together.”

Harry smiled, slowly relaxing against his husband, as a slender fingered hand ventured under his jumper, and spayed across the mound of his belly. The feeling of compatible magic heated his skin and sent a jolt of arousal straight to his groin, and Harry had to stifle the moan that threatened to escape.

“Is that all the kids?” He asked, his voice coming out breathless.

“Yes,” warm lips nibbled up the side of his throat, capturing an ear lobe as they reach his ear. “Molly says thank you, and to go away so that they can get the children settled.”

His head dropped back against a broad shoulder. “But don’t we need to help…”

“Molly,” the questing hand moved downward sliding two long fingers into his waist band, teasing the head of his very interested cock, “and the House-elves have everything in hand, as I too, would like to do. Are you ready to return to our rooms?”

“Oh yes!” 

Harry groaned, and arching into his husband’s touch, Apparated both of them from the entry hall of Snape Manor to their bedroom in the dungeons of Hogwarts, without even realizing what he had done. Another wish divested them of their clothing and Harry lost the capacity to think as he was sucked into the sweet heat of Severus’ mouth.


	19. Preparations

A soft knock at the door an hour later heralded the arrival of the Headmaster, looking unusually somber in midnight blue robes, and a serious express on his face. Severus stepped back to allow him entry as Harry watched from his perch on the window seat. The enchanted window behind him showed a crisp, clear November sky as his eyes followed the aged wizard’s progress into the sitting room.

“Harry,” the Headmaster seemed to be watching him closely, “how did you get back to Hogwarts earlier this afternoon?”

Harry blinked, exchanging glances with Severus as he tried to remember past the heated caresses that were happening at the time. “Well, we just Apparated to…” The memory clarified and hit him with the force of a bludger, an answering astonishment apparent through the bond. “Bloody hell, I Apparated us from the Manor to our bedroom!”

Severus appeared equally stunned as Albus Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Albus, how is that possible? The anti-Apparation wards should have stopped us!”

The Headmaster nodded slowly, one hand stroking his silver beard as he peered at Harry over his half-moon spectacles. “As with most things you manage to accomplish like this, I am most impressed, Harry, your power continues to amaze me. It would seem that Hogwarts herself has allowed you a privilege normally reserved for Headmasters and Headmistresses in the past, the ability to Apparate into and presumable out of the castle. It also may be that the castle itself recognizes you both as the heir of Merlin, as well as one of the Founders.”

Harry felt his jaw drop and frantically sought reassurance from his husband, who stood to one side of him, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. A tendril of exasperated pride filtered through the bond, and Harry had to bite down to keep down the giggle that threatened to bubble up.

“Your Grace continues to surprise me,” the Potions master sneered half-heartedly at his spouse, the hand that reached for his countermanding the words, “perhaps next time you will warn me in advance of these awe inspiring deeds, so that I could be more observant.”

“Git.” Harry slapped half-heartedly at the older man before being pulled into an embrace. “I just wished we were back in our bedroom, Severus, and we were there. I didn’t give it much thought after that.”

“I would have thought,” the Headmaster interjected delicately, “that you would have noticed the difference between the portkey you had and the Apparation, Severus.”

Glancing up, Harry could see the blush spread up the Slytherin’s cheeks as his lover met his mentor’s eyes unflinchingly. “I will admit to being a bit…distracted at the time, Albus.”

Dumbledore nodded with a knowing smile. “Ah, yes, of course. I am suitably impressed, by this latest development, my boys, as it seems that we are still learning the extent of your magic abilities, Harry.”

hpsshpsshpss

Voldemort was strangely quiet as the magical community rallied behind their idea, and soon the Manor was filled as more children appeared. The large house just over the rise from Snape Manor, turned out to be one of the long vacant Black properties that they already owned, and renovations began immediately on it, with Draco and Ginny overseeing the progress. Members of the Order of the Phoenix quietly searched the country for more children in need of placement. At the same time, Harry had pressed the Headmaster to allow him to tell the DA of what they might face the on the night of the Winter Solstice.

The two weeks following the opening of children’s home flew by as Hogwarts geared up for end of term exams, and the approaching holidays. The Headmaster made the announcement about the Yule Ball, disappointing the lower years as only those in the fourth year and above were eligible to attend. Harry sat at the Gryffindor table between Hermione and Ginny, and squirmed as he listened to the venerable wizard speak, something about the plans bothering him. Severus had relayed the conversation he’d had with Dumbledore about keeping the students at Hogwarts for their own safety, effectively leaving almost half of the students scattered in the four Houses during the time everyone was at the Ball. If Voldemort managed to find away around the wards, then the younger students would be left vulnerable. A frown creased his forehead as he racked his brain for ideas, although a snarky voice in his head, which sounded suspiciously like his husband, chided him for thinking he was the only one to have thought of the possibility.

Shooting a glance at the Head table, Harry could see the smirk that had blossomed on Severus’ face, and sent him the image of a rude hand gesture, only to receive a wave of amusement through the bond in return. The large hall hummed with the buzz of conversation as discussion raged over the Hufflepuff – Ravenclaw Quidditch match the next morning. It was almost surreal to Harry as he sat bemused by the heated exchanges he could hear going back and forth between the House tables over the game. It seemed so insignificant an issue to get so worked up about, he thought, in light of the threat that faced them on a daily basis.

 _‘It gives them something positive to focus on, love, instead of brooding over what they can not change, and becoming depressed or even suicidal.’_

He had not realized that he was projecting his thoughts until Harry heard his soul-mate’s dulcet tones in his mind. Sheepishly, he sent his thanks, and stood, knowing Severus would mirror his actions. Bending to whisper his goodbyes into Hermione’s ear, he was surprised when she pressed a kiss to his cheek and sent him off with a knowing smile. Ron flashed him a mock scowl as he looped his arm around his girlfriend, and Harry laughed at their antics as he left by the side door. 

Severus was waiting for him, and fell into step silently as they moved down the staircase towards their quarters. There was a stack of third year essays lying on the blotter of the Potions master’s desk, and Harry needed to finish his essay on Animagus Transformation for Transfiguration. It might be Friday night, but the couple had decided to spend the next afternoon at Snape Manor, helping out with the children, and needed to have the work completed tonight. By unspoken agreement, they headed to opposite ends of the sitting room and began their respective tasks, shedding their outer robes as they went. 

It was an hour before Harry set his quill down and capped the inkbottle. He blew gently on the still wet ink of his last paragraph and glanced over to find Severus had his head angled to the side, his cheek cupped in his left hand, as if in pain. The teenager stood and stretched, his right hand straying to the gentle curve of his belly as he made his way across the room to his spouse. Silently summoning an analgesic draught from the shelves in the bathroom, he pressed it into his lover’s hand as he kissed the top of the greasy head.

“Ewwww! I wish you wouldn’t put that stuff in your hair.”

Severus merely grunted as he tossed back the contents of the vial. Looking over his shoulder, the Gryffindor could see the copious amount of red ink splashed across the essay on the desk, and hid a smile. Moving around behind the older man, Harry slid his hands across the broad shoulders and settled them on each side of Severus’ neck, thumbs digging into the knot he knew he would find in the muscles. Kneading the rock hard flesh, he smiled as the older man groaned and dropped his head forward.

“Are they truly that bad?”

“Worse,” his lover muttered into his chest, “almost as bad as your year was when I assigned it to you in third year.”

Harry snorted as his hands continued to work the tension from the tight shoulders, working out the knots he found along each shoulder blade. A wave of love swept through their bond, and Harry leaned forward to kiss the pale skin of the bared neck. His hands began to tire, and Severus reached back, tugging him around the chair. Scooting back, he eased Harry down into his lap, his hand caressing the bulge that was Rion, as the teen nestled against his husband’s chest. 

“Sev?” he nuzzled against the warm throat, plating a lingering kiss before final address the subject foremost in his mind. “Is there anything we can do about the Dementors?”

Glancing out the enchanted window into the inky darkness outside, Severus knew that a steady, cold mist had started falling again that afternoon, quickly turning into a wet, sloppy snow. There was every indication the foul creatures that his husband had so many encounters with, were breeding in the area, and would certainly be a major factor in the coming battle. He spayed his hand over his son’s mound and pressed a kiss to Harry’s head.

“I am not aware of any ready defense which has not already been tried and failed in the past, with the exception of the Patronus.”

“What about a Cheering Potion in the punch to keep everyone happy enough to cast the charm when the time comes?” Harry asked, half joking.

Severus blinked. It was times like this when he wondered whether the teenager was channeling one or more of his powerful ancestors, or it was truly just a random thought that somehow fell out of the blasted boy’s mouth. Children responded well to the least potent of the potions classified as cheering potions, which tended to keep them from becoming anxious or stressed; unlike Cheering Charms that brought laughter and uncontrolled giggling, often incapacitating the receiver. There were many potions that were used by the magical community to treat mild depression, all the way up to potions given to suicidal or distraught patients in an effort to regain the proper chemical balance in their bodies. A customized blend of several existing potions might help the students retain their ability to pull the happy memories needed to produce a corporeal Patronus in the face of what Severus was sure to be an overwhelming number of Dementors, and allow them to retain their thoughts, and actions normally.

Nudging the teenager’s face with his chin, Severus was able to swoop down and kiss his husband breathless. “There just might be a way to do exactly that, Harry, and I am at a loss to explain why no one thought of it during your third year when Poppy had to treat many students who were sensitive to the presence of the Dementors. There are several potions that would help suppress the fear centers of the brain, while doing so in a manner that does not incapacitate the drinker’s ability to function on a level that open battle would require.”

Harry blinked as his mind deciphered the sentence before he grinned, and leaned up to return the moist lips that hovered above him, before the research into an appropriate potion pulled his husband’s attention away from him. After a few intense minutes, he stood and allowed Severus to get up, watching as the older man immediately headed for the portion of the shelves that housed the potions manuals and journals. With a sigh, Harry headed for the shower, knowing that his mate would be up late researching his vast stores of information for something that might help them.

Steamy water ran through his hair and sluiced over his skin, rinsing the special gel that the Potions master made them to wash with. The faint scent of sandalwood brought a smile to his face as it never failed to remind him of being in his husband’s arms. Drying his skin will a soft towel, Harry whispered a drying spell for his hair, knowing it would make it more tamable than towel drying would. Slipping into a pair of sleep pants, the teenager yawned as he slid his feet into Severus’ slippers before trudging into the bedroom. His husband had already been in, casting a warming charm on the sheets and leaving a goblet of water and some soda crackers by the bed. With a smile, Harry slipped between the sheets and was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Hpsshpsshpss

Severus was still distracted the next morning as they made their way out to the Quidditch pitch after breakfast, no doubt mixing potion ingredients in his head, Harry thought, as his eyes scanned the leaden skies. Switching his gaze to the area around the pitch, his eyes were caught by a movement off to his right, and the Gryffindor was surprised to see a mole scamper out from under the Whopping Willow. He frowned, that was funny. Remembering how Uncle Vernon had battled a rather persistent, and destructive, mole in the front yard of the house on Privet Drive several summers back, Harry could have swore they were only active at night. A flashback of the small, lifeless body being paraded in triumph around the yard by his uncle had made an impression on him, coming soon after he had slain the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

Shaking away his thoughts, his eyes continued to tract the dark fur as the creature disappeared into the Forbidden Forest. The touch of his husband’s hand at the small of his back redirected his steps back towards the pitch. Ron and Hermione at with a dozen members of the DA in the seats adjacent to the staff seating, allowing Harry to sit with Severus on his right side and his best friend on the left. As the players moved on to the field for the start of the game, with Luna leading the spirited cheering for the Ravenclaws as they kicked off from the ground, Harry leaded over to whisper in the witch’s ear, brushing the bushy brown hair to the side.

“Can you schedule a special DA meeting for the sixth and seventh years on Sunday evening at eight o’clock?”

The intelligent brown eyes searched his face, and Harry was reminded that this half of his best friends had excelled at both Occlumency and Legilimency. He leaned forward and kissed her on the nose as a distraction, hearing a snort to his right.

“Of course, you shameful flirt!” She smacked his arm affectionately, before burrowing under his cloak to lay her hand on his baby bump. “Do you have news?”

He shrugged his shoulders just as a roar went up from the Hufflepuffs as their keeper blocked a goal. The smooth tenor of Ernie Macmillian was doing the play be play of the game, and he tuned him out as he leaned back a little to give Hermione more room. Tempted to cast _Muffliato_ on those around them, Harry was certain that his fellow students would notice if the roar of the others in the crowd was suddenly muffled. The soft brown eyes were studying him intensely, and shifted over towards Severus, before nodding. Turning back to the game, Harry continued to scan the skies as the deep blue and yellow clad Quidditch players battled on a field of air, the price a golden ball with wings. 

By the time the Ravenclaw team had won the match by a mere ten points, lucky enough to have caught the snitch as the goalkeeper drowned under the onslaught of Quaffles, the mist had returned. Just the wetness from the vile monsters seemed to leech the happiness from him, Harry thought as he followed Severus down to the dungeons. The game had lasted into the early afternoon, and Harry knew from experience that Tiffy would have hot savory soup and sandwiches waiting for them in their rooms, insisting they eat before they left for the Manor.

Both Tiffy and Dobby served as head House-elves for the eight elves that were in their employ at the house, keeping the house spotless, while cooking for the children and staff. The majority of the elves had little contact with the children, but the two oldest females, Sissy and Lotty, were under Molly Weasley’s direct supervision as the assisted in the care and feeding of the youngest. While Severus seemed to take it in stride, having grown up exposed by his mother to the magical world, Harry never failed to be awed by the care and concern of the diminutive creatures.

Flooing together into the entry, Harry closed his eyes and clung tightly to his husband as the world continued to spin around him. His lunch threatened to make reappearance until a small vial was pressed to his lips, and he took a mouthful of surprisingly pleasant tasting potion. Instantly, his stomach settled as did the room and Harry slowly pushed back to stand on his own, a smile of thanks for the Potions master. 

“Come, your Grace, your loyal fans await you,” Severus muttered in his ear, the playful sneer evident in his velvety voice.

Following the rising level of noise, the couple made their way upstairs to the large playroom that had been placed between the nursery and one of the large dormitory style rooms. As the crossed the threshold, Harry was astounded by the number of clean, brightly clad children, ranging in age from babies crawling around a soft floor in one corner, to a group of ten year old playing exploding snap in the other corner. In between there were colorful slides and swings suspended from the high ceiling, with children squealing as they were pushed by what ever adult was nearby. Just inside the doorway stood a young witch, her bubblegum pink hair a distinctive identifier.

“Tonks!” Harry stopped, submitting himself to the hug that he was able to keep confined to his upper body. “What are you doing here?”

The dark blue eyes, so much like those of his godfather looked at him sadly as the Auror slung and arm around his shoulders. “I discovered that a couple of the kids who are distantly related to me might be among the missing, and came here to see if I could find them.”

The breath left his lungs in a painful gasp as the implications hit him. “How…”

“My mother’s cousin, Cassiopeia, had a daughter named Sagitta, who married a Muggle-born wizard named Keife Connelly or O’Connor or something like that,” her eyes scanned the writhing mass of small people. “I just want to know if they are here and safe.”

Harry nodded, the thought that there might be children out there, related to his beloved godfather, and in danger from the vicious half-blood egomaniac with his insane pure-blood mania, sent a wave of apprehension through him. As he turned to look for his husband, he saw that Severus had moved further into the room, looking over play toys that he had never been allowed as a child. Dressed in an elegant set of black wool robes, the tall man was scowling deeply as he watched two boys about six tussled over a toy, his appearance daunting.

A squeal from across the room startled him, and Harry watched as a dark haired blur ran through the other children and flung itself into Severus’ arms. A small smile hovered at the corners of those thin lips and Harry had to bite his cheek as little Keenan Connor threw his arms around the slender neck as he was lifted, and hugged Severus with all his might.

“Tonks, that muggle-born who married your cousin, could it have been Connor?”

“It is possible…”

The Auror’s words were lost as Harry grabbed her hand and moved toward his husband. The toddler’s older brother appeared at the Potions master’s side, stammering out an apology for his baby brother’s enthusiastic greeting, wringing his hands as if he felt he was in trouble.

“Hello, Keven,” Harry said as he stopped beside the dark-haired boy, laying a hand on the thin shoulder, causing the boy to flinch. “I would like you to meet Nymphadora Tonks; she is an Auror and a Metamorphmagus.”

Those dark iris colored eyes looked up at him, and then shifted to Tonks with her bright pink hair, widening as he took in the hair, the purple ‘Weird Sisters’ tee shirt, and the brightly patched and torn blue jeans. Tonks went to kneel down, her feet slipping on an enchanted block and ended up knocking herself and Keven over, and it was only Severus’ arm wrapping around him that kept Harry from landing on the floor as well.

“Hello, Nymphadora,” the older wizard smirked, which lost the majority of its sting as Keenan patted his face, “graceful as always, I see.”

With another squeal, Harry felt a small hand brush through his hair, before grabbing a handful and tugging. Tilting his head up, Harry found his face under assault, as two small hands landed on each cheek and squeezed his face, a sloppy kiss delivered to the side of his nose. Glad he decided to forego his glasses this morning, Harry nuzzled the baby’s soft cheek, planting a loud kiss and Keenan shrieked with laughter. Looking up with a grin, he saw a softness in the gleaming obsidian eyes that he had never seen before. It was not the molten onyx of desire, or the warmth that Harry knew was the love his husband had for him and the young father-to-be knew this was the look Severus would favor their son with, when Rion was born.

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry! Keenan doesn’t know better than to bother you, Mister Potter! Please don’t be angry!”

Exchanging frowns, Severus looked down at the child trying to wedge himself between him and Harry, as if to grab the delighted toddler out of his arms. The boy was obviously distressed and he watched as his husband and Tonks both tried to soothe him.

“Keven, you are not bothering either Severus or myself, “the teenager extracted himself from Keenan and knelt down so that he was eye level with the child, “and my name is Harry.”

“Severus! Harry! I didn’t see you arrive!” Molly Weasley, clad in a huge apron of white broadcloth hurried into the room.

“Sev’us!” Keenan chirp as he threw his arms around the Potions master’s head, and pressed his periwinkle rompers across the man’s face.

Severus reached up gently, and peeled the child off his face, shifting him lower in his arms, as he turned to great the Weasley matriarch. As he glanced down, he noticed an unreadable expression on his mate’s face, and concentrated on the feeling flowing between them through the bond. There was an underlying sadness in the young man as he reached up a hand to stroke the side of the boy’s face, reassuring Keven that he and his little brother were ion no way bothering them.

“I am afraid I am the one that planted that idea in Keven’s head, Harry. I told the children that they should not bother you with questions when you came to see them, and he may have thought that meant not to bother you are all.”

The toddler threw himself down towards his brother, and Severus just managed to retain his grip as Keenan hugged Keven’s head, before bouncing back up to slump gracelessly on to his chest, burying his face in the wizard’s throat. With a bemused expression, Severus patted the little back, astounded at the child’s instant attachment to him. 

“Molly,” he acknowledged, and noticed they were drawing a crowd of children now, several of whom seem fascinated by the Auror and her unusual colored hair.

“Missus Weasley, Tonks thinks that Keven and Keenan may be related to her on her mother’s side,”

Severus heard his husband say the words in a carefully monotone voice, and took a half step toward where Harry still knelt beside the older boy. If the children were related to Tonks on her mother’s side, that would mean they were related to Draco through Narcissa, and… His mind made the leap, adding what he knew of the Black family tree and the sadness he felt from his young soul-mate; the children with their raven hair and distinctive dark blue eyes were related to Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black. He reached down and stroked the fingers of his free hand through the wild mop of hair, as he sent his understanding through their bond. Letting the teenager feel his acceptance as well as the amusement of the situation, as the youngest brother snored softly against his chest.

“Really?” the youngster asked, glancing at the witch still sitting on the floor.

“Yes,” Tonks answered brightly, the sheen of tears bright in her eyes. “Was your father’s name Keife?”

The child nodded, and edged closer to Harry, seemingly scared for some reason. Severus watched as his husband calmed the boy and diverted his attention toward a toy broom that lay in the corner. The bubblegum pink head followed their movement, even as the Auror found her attention being demanded by the small circle of children around her. The afternoon passed rapidly as Molly Wesley left them to supervise the play as she returned to the nursery and the half dozen babies under the age of a year. Conjuring a comfortable chair, the stoic man strived to maintain his dignity, even as the little tyke in his arms drooled on the front of his robes. The warmth of the small body against his chest sent a thrill through him, and Severus sighed contently. It would not be long before his own son would be cuddled against him, just as warm and trusting as little Keenan, and it was a feeling he could rapidly become accustomed to.

Harry hid a smile as the afternoon wore on, and Keenan continued to insist that Severus was the only person he wanted. The toddler consented to allowing Harry to hold him while Severus went to the loo and collected a clean nappy and a warm bottle, quickly reclaiming his newfound friend as soon as he returned. With a whispered word to Keven, Harry followed the older wizard into the room the two boys shared, and watched intently as Severus changed the boy. Settling on to Keven’s bed, Severus held the youngster as Keenan drank his bottle and fell asleep in his arms. A warm feeling went through Harry as he stood beside the cot, Severus’ arms wrapping around him from behind, hands resting on his baby bump.

The men stayed until just after dinner time, making sure they said good bye to all the children before walking with Molly Weasley to the entry hall. Apparating them both directly into their bedroom at Hogwarts with a smirk, he ignored the muttering of his husband. They had eaten dinner with the children and staff at Snape Manor, and Harry felt pleasantly tired, his mind filled with the warm smiles, and sweet scents of children. A new strength of purpose quietly filled him as he slipped into bed and into his lover’s arms. It was for them that they fought Voldemort, and as it had been for his mother, the love he felt for his own child, as well as the children he had spent the afternoon with, would help him to defeat the evil bastard.

hpsshpsshpss

The older members of the DA gathered in the Room of Requirement the next evening, all of them swearing a Wizard’s Oath to keep the contents of the meeting a secret. The winter solstice and full moon were a week away, and Harry could see the strain on the last of the Marauders as Remus Lupin slipped into the room. The Potions master was last to arrive, having spent his day in his laboratory, and he handed the DADA professor a steaming goblet as he moved to join Harry at the front of the room. Filius Flitwick and Albus Dumbledore stood slightly behind Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Ron at the front of the room. The Headmaster cast silencing spells on the room, as well as an Imperturbable Charm on the door.

Harry stepped forward, and took a deep breath. “Thank you all for coming tonight. We decided to share some information with you, the oldest and most mature of the students in the DA. The oath you just swore probably told you that this was not to be a normal meeting, and you are correct, it isn’t.”

Pausing to scan the room, Harry’s gaze fell on Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley standing in the front row of the sixth year students. Of the twenty-five students who had joined them, Harry saw emotions ranging from eagerness to mild apprehension, but in each set of bright eyes, he could see determination, and he smiled.

“In going over what we know of Voldemort’s,” he ignored the shutters, “plans, and other information we have been able to gather, we feel there is a strong chance that the Death Eaters will attempt to attack Hogwarts during the Solstice Ball next Sunday night.”

Gasps and whispering broke out amongst the students, and Harry let them continue for several minutes before continuing. “We don’t know how they plan to breech the protective shields and wards, but I think our best bet is to prepare for the most likely methods. This means we need to be ready for Dementors, as well as undiscovered secret passages and possible even some trying to fly in on brooms. In light of this, we need to be prepared for anything, which might be able to eliminate the element of surprise from the tactics.”

Hermione stepped forward. “Which means we all need to make sure every one of you can cast the Patronus Charm successfully, can I please see the hands of those who can?” 

The majority of the students raised their hands, and Harry quickly separated out the students who had not mastered the charm, while the rest went to work with the teachers on shielding and stunning spells. Hermione and Draco joined him at the opposite end of the large room, well away from any stray spells, and began to work with the students on their Patronus’. By the end of the lesson, just after curfew, all but two of the group had successfully produced at least silver mist. The next meeting was scheduled for just after the last class of the day tomorrow, with a full DA meeting after dinner that evening. There were plans to make up, and teams of DA members to draw up for the Ball. 

The five or six members not attending the Ball could prowl the corridors, Harry thought, as he stepped into the shower, his mind still on the meeting. He leaned under the steamy water, letting it wet his hair thoroughly, when he felt a pair of familiar hands begin to rub a soapy flannel over his chest. Sighing, he relaxed into the sure strokes, fingernails scrapping lightly over the sensitive nipples. Severus adjusted the showerhead and turned Harry away from him, long fingers massaging shampoo in to his wet hair. With a sigh, the young wizard let himself relax under the talented fingers. Leaning the younger man back against him, Severus rinsed the shampoo out of the raven hair and began to gently soap the lightly muscled chest. Working his way down, he soaped down over the mound at his abdomen and, kneeling pressed a kiss to the taunt flesh, before he soaped first one leg and then the other. Ignoring the jutting erection Harry was now sporting, he turned the younger wizard around and repeated the washing on his back, before gently kneading the taut arse cheeks. Rinsing the soap off, he pressed the soap into Harry’s hand so he could finish, and stepped under the spray, ignoring his own throbbing member. 

Opening his eyes, Harry breathed in the scent of rainwater and sandalwood from the bottle of soap in his hand, and grinned wickedly at the taller man standing under the water. His eyes trailed down the body he had come to adore, and drew a finger down the lean, lightly muscled chest that tapered to a firm stomach, and that glorious cock which stood proudly. The water sluicing down the spattering of dark hair across his chest and along the line that arrowed down to the nest of dark curls that surrounded the base of his penis. Moving closer, Harry began to soap the broad chest, rubbing lather across the center, and grinned at the moan Severus could not contain as a fingernail scrapped a dusky nipple. Watching as the older man threw his head back to rinse the shampoo out of his long black hair, Harry could not resist stepping closer and running his finger tips down the slender length of the creamy white throat.

“You are going to be the death of me, Potter,” the older wizard sputtered, as his gasp caused him to aspirate water.

Harry pulled away laughing, his hands sliding over Severus’ stomach, and dropped to his knees to soap down each leg, allowing the man’s erection to nudge his cheek. Standing, he turned his companion around and quickly soaped the lean back, his fingers lingering over the familiar spattering of scars that marred the surface. As his hands reached the well-muscled cheeks, Harry slowed. His soapy fingers splayed across the lobes, and Harry marveled at the beauty he saw there, knowing it was his. With a laugh, and a renewed throbbing in his groin, he massaged the alabaster cheeks, trailing his fingers down the cleft, and brushing across the entrance.

With a guttural cry, Severus turned, lifting Harry to press him back against the shower wall. Severus took his mouth in a heated kiss, his hands dropping to the younger man’s arse. Lifting him to align their cocks, grinding them together as Harry grasped both. Leaning back against the tile, Harry groaned as his husband thrush upward, and he felt fingers ghost down his cleft and across that sensitive ring, and it nudged him over the edge. Severus followed him with a shudder, his kiss gentling as their breathing slowed. 

Letting the water rinse away the traces of their passion, his husband seat lowered him to his feet as he turned off the water. He felt the drying charm that Severus cast over them both and lead the way into the bedroom. Harry felt pleasantly tired, his body sated and warm as his beloved spooned behind him. He cleared his mind out of habit, trying to banish the images of sad iris-blue eyes, dark haired babies with brilliant green eyes, and pushed the weight of the responsibility he felt behind a stonewall. All they could do was prepare and train, try to cover every possible aspect of the attack.

“Hush, my love, you need your sleep. You are not alone in this, trust me.”

Commanding his mind to rest, Harry allowed the warm of Severus’ presence lull him to sleep.


	20. If Tomorrow Comes...

Something woke Harry from a sound sleep the next morning, his eyes snapping open in the predawn light filtering in through the small enchanted window on the far side of the bedroom wall. Tense, he remained absolutely still, his eyes cracking open to sweep as much of the room as he was able to without moving his head. Everything, even the air of their bedroom, was eerily still and hushed, as if waiting for whatever woke him to repeat itself. Harry’s mind darted to the mole he had seen running across the white filed of snow before the Quidditch game Saturday morning, a picture of Peter Pettigrew as Scabbers popped into his mind. Listening intently for any hint of digging or scratching, he was taken by surprise by the sensation of a butterfly inside his abdomen.

Gasping, Harry grabbed the warm arm draped across his waist in a dead grip, startling his husband awake. The older man levered himself up on an elbow, as Harry pressed his hand into the mound at his waist, waiting for the feeling to happen again. Just as he began to believe he had imagined it, the fluttering started again. With a hitch in his breath, Harry suddenly realized that it was their son who was moving. Closing his eyes tightly, he regulated his breathing, and drawing Severus with him, sunk into his magical pathway. 

Following the bright tendrils of his magic passed the pulsing core in the center of his chest; Harry followed the thin emerald strands that led to the ball of magic lodged in his abdomen. The magical womb that encased their son was as big as the Potions master’s large fist now, a delicate cocoon of gold, silver, and emerald filigree. Inside the transparent structure, Harry could make out the shape of a tiny, perfectly formed child who was kicking his legs furiously, creating the sensation of a butterfly’s wings inside him. He could feel Severus’ incredulous reaction as the older man felt and saw Rion’s movements. 

They lay there for some time, entwined together as they felt the life move within the younger man. As the watery light of dawn crept into the room, Severus stroked the rounded belly of his soul mate, regretting the need to move from the warmth surrounding them.  
“He knows its time, Sev,” Harry said quietly, his voice full of sad resignation. “I think Rion wants us to know that he is ready to help us.”

Severus was stunned by the young man’s intuition and could only hold him closer, stroking a hand through the cap of wild hair. There were no words to say that would relieve the burden either of them was feeling, and by unspoken agreement, they moved to get out of bed together. Washing up and dressing in silence, the bound pair moved towards the Great Hall, eating their meal sitting side by side at the head table, as they were the first to arrive. A warm hand resting on his thigh reminded the Potions master that they were tied together by the love that had taken root despite the nature of their original bound. He slipped his hand over Harry’s, turning it and entwining their fingers, swearing silently that they were do what they needed to do and vanquish the monster know as Lord Voldemort.

hpsshpsshpss

Double Potions that morning had the NEWT level seventh years divided into their usual four groups, each of the groups consisted of three to four students. Moving from the side door into the classroom, Harry moved to sit beside Hermione and Draco. He hid a smile as Severus swept into the room through the main door, robes billowing in the manner that terrified the younger student. Having continued to sit in on Potions classes despite his bond with the teacher, Harry did not receive a grade for any of his efforts, but did qualify to sit his Potions NEWT at the end of the year. He attended most lectures, and participated in the practical when his husband deemed the potions they were brewing to be safe for him to be around; otherwise Harry studied in their quarters while the more noxious brewing was done.

“We will be brewing four different types of Cheering Potions, each numbered to correspond with your workstation. These are fairly complex, and delicate potions that will require you complete concentrate. Although they are not volatile of themselves, they can become unstable if the instructions are not followed exactly,” the dark eyes swept the room. “Any questions?”

There were none, and Draco went up to retrieve their ingredients as Hermione dealt with lighting the cauldron. The potion assigned to the trio was the most delicate of the three, but the one that contained the subtlest blend of rare ingredients, requiring solid concentrations and a steady hand on the stirring rod. Following the instructions on the board, Harry prepared the ingredients carefully, as he knew exactly why these potions were chosen to be made. The instructions were as complex as stirring pattern that Hermione was trying to maintain at an even pace, as Draco helped her count in order to add the ingredients as directed.

Snickers from the worktable of the Slytherins alerted Harry to be cautious even before he felt and heard something whiz past his ear. Tracking to colored blur as if it were a snitch, he watched in horror as it skimmed along the edge of the cauldron rim, and skated off abruptly to the floor. Draco smirked at the stewed mandrake bits splattered in the stone floor, before glancing up at Harry.

“What?” The blond tried to look innocent. “Doesn’t everyone shield their cauldron?”

Hermione threw him an incredulous look. “I never knew it was allowed,” she threw him a filthy look, “must be a Slytherin trait.”

“Yes,” Draco leaned over and told them in a stage whisper, “would have save you Gryffindors a lot of anguish if you had just learned that years ago.”

Hermione’s retort was bitten off as the Potions master suddenly loomed over their workstation. The jolt of awareness Harry felt was nothing like the jolt of emotion he had felt for the first six years of potions classes anytime this man hovered over him, and warmth spread through him. 

“Miss Granger, mind your stirring, please, as you are doing a half turn too much on the counterclockwise strokes.”

“Yes, Professor,” the witch curtailed her stirring immediately.

Severus leaned toward the lone Slytherin, brushing Harry’s shoulder. “Well done, Draco,” as he continued his strolling.

Rolling his eyes at the black clad back, Harry could not resist sending the image of him pinching the alabaster arse as he watched it move away.

‘ _Brat!_ ’ 

The class continued without further incident, and all potions were deemed to have been brewer successfully. Placing all four under stasis fields, Harry stayed behind after class to help his husband levitate the cauldrons back to Severus’ private laboratory. Inside the well-equipped room sat almost a dozen similar vessels, holding different colored liquids. Knowing that his spouse would work through his free period as well as lunch, Harry went through to their quarters, where he summoned Tiffy to ask her for some sandwiches to be sent to the lab. He ended up being late for Charms, and had to stand while the diminutive professor used him to demonstrate hair-color changing charms.

The rest of the day went fairly smoothly as the young Gryffindor was able to push darker thoughts behind his mental walls and attend to his studies. He sat and laughed with Ron and Ginny at lunch, Hermione off in the library researching something. As the last class ended that afternoon, the trio of friends made their way from the Transfiguration classroom to the Room of Requirement. The corridor was crowded with students, with younger students running to catch-up with friends and others jostling those around them. Harry made sure the spells that concealed and protected Rion were firmly in place as a tiny first year bounced into him.

Severus and Remus Lupin were already setting things up when the Gryffindors arrive, leaning over several softly bubbling cauldrons at the front of the room. To one side sat a dark wooden trunk that Harry recognized from his third year.

“You brought a boggart to the meeting, Remus?” He asked as he edged away from the trunk and closer to the Slytherin.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts looked tired, his face worn, Harry thought, and knew it was the coming attack as much as the approaching full moon wearing on the sandy haired man. The Solstice Ball was to be held on the night of the full moon, and the last of the Marauders would not be able to attend or assist them.

“Yes, I am hoping that you could make it change into a Dementor again, so that the students have something to practice on,” the amber eyes seemed to glow as the werewolf smiled warmly at him.

Unconsciously, Harry took a step backwards as a wave of nausea hit his stomach and panic gripped his chest. The idea of standing close enough to make a Dementor appear, with all the emotions and physical stresses it would bring made him sick. At thirteen, newly acquainted with Dementors, and the way they forced him to relive his parents’ death, the foul creatures had been what Harry feared most in a Voldemort-free world. In the ensuing years, he had undergone many trails and losses, and made a number of emotional investments to where there were other things to fear than the creatures he had managed to defeat twice. His breath hitched in his chest as his mind flashed on a vision of Severus, dead on a field of green grass, a raven-haired infant clasped tightly in his arms.

Warm hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him back against the taller body, and reassurances flowed through the bond he shared with Severus. 

“I do not believe that you should rely on Harry to produce your Dementor, Remus,” the dulcet voice said in an even tone but the finality of the delivery was unmistakable.

Remus’ head shot up from the parchment he had been studying, and the enhanced eyes took in the stance of the couple, the fine tremor in the younger partner, whose hand rested protectively on his gently rounded abdomen. A look of dawning comprehension washed over his face.

“I am so sorry, Harry! I wasn’t thinking about…” he bit off his words, his eyes darting around the room that was thankfully empty accept for Hermione and Ron who were having a conversation in the far corner. “I am afraid you have grown up when I wasn’t looking, Harry.”

Harry gave him a small smile, and was relieved when the trunk was immediately levitated to the far corner of the room. He leaned into the warmth behind him for a moment, took a deep cleansing breath, and recast the spell to conceal his abdomen. The other DA members began to arrive shortly afterwards, and the room was soon filled with shouts of ‘ _Expecto Patronum!_ ’, as various forms of silver darted about. Severus had coveted those students who successfully completed their Patronus’ to test the cheering potions at the front of the room. There were many happy, yet functional teenagers who were still able to cast the powerful spell.

Dinner interrupted the training and they all made their way to the Great Hall in various degrees of cheerfulness. Severus walked beside his young spouse and his friends, Harry’s uncharacteristic quiet bothered him. Lupin’s assumption that Harry’s greatest fear was still Dementors had taken the younger man by surprise, and sent his thoughts to those things that truly terrified him. With the rest of the pressures on the young wizard at his side, Severus was concerned that this latest worry was weighing heavily on him, at a time when Harry and their baby needed nothing more to agonize about.

The second session of the DA was for everyone in the group and concentrated on shielding charms and stunning spells. Most of the older students were able to perfect their incantations quickly, and in turn, helped the younger children with theirs. Well before curfew, the students were sent back to their common rooms to study for the next day’s exams. The Potter-Snapes made their way down to the dungeons, Severus glad to see that Harry had worked his way out of the mood he’d been in earlier. After sharing a deep kiss, the pair separated, Severus to his potions and Harry to his studies.

The week flew by, with the end of term exams and hard training, intersperse with eating and sleeping. Severus sent Hedwig to Madam Maulkin, ordering two sets of dress robes in a cut more conductive to dueling, with a cutaway style that was tailored closer to the body that the robes they normally wore. He chose a very specialized cloth, one with many protective charms and spells to repel most low level hexes. They were expensive, but any additional protection for both of them was well worth the price, he felt, and he knew that Harry would look smashing in the jade-green and black robes he had chosen. 

Each day that passed brought the end of term closer, and Severus could see the strain beginning to take its toll on Harry. By Friday night, lying entwined together in bed, he stroked the wild mop of silky hair, having fed the younger man a mild sleeping draught and luring him to bed early. A session on the joys of mutual oral satisfaction had tired the expectant father nicely, and Severus was content to lie there holding him. For the students remaining, the next day was a Hogsmeade weekend, and the Potions master had persuaded his young husband to go with his friends. It would not hurt the teen to do a little mindless shopping and wandering the small village for a few hours, relative free from any type of attack, but Harry would be surrounded by the senior members of the DA whose skills the Slytherin had come to admire greatly. 

The Hogwarts Express set off from Hogsmeade Station after breakfast on Saturday morning with less than two dozen students on board; many of them younger Slytherins whose families were know Voldemort supporters. Their Head of House had watched with a feeling of sadness as the children had filed out of the common room, silently walking by him without meeting his eyes. Over the years, he had tried to instill in his students the belief that they had a choice in their lives that they could control their own destiny by the choices they made. It had only since his discovery as a spy, that Severus had been able to truly speak out against the evil that Voldemort represented, but it was difficult to countermand years of being fed propaganda at a parent’s knee. 

With Harry in Hogsmeade, Severus opened their bond wide so that he would be attuned to any changes in the teen’s feelings or physical status. It was a bit eerie he decided, as he tried to concentrate on counting his strokes, as he felt the flutters his son was causing. With a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Severus finished the last batch of modified Cheering Potion, and set it to cool under a barrier shield. He had come up with a potion that targeted the portion of the brain that reacted to fear, rendering it temporarily numb to outside stimuli. His only fear was that it would cause some of those who drank it to rush into the coming situation, without benefit of a healthy amount of fear to caution them.

The only drawback was that Harry could not drink it, as it would affect both he and Rion, and neither of them wanted to take any chances with their baby. Cleaning up his lab, the Potions master made his way into the rooms he shared with the Gryffindor, eyeing the green and red ribbons that hung from the ceiling with silver and gold baubles on the ends. His husband insisted they decorate the sitting room for their first Christmas together, as if there was not a climactic battle happening in a matter of hours. The floating balls of green parasites, with their white berries hung in each of the doorways, and Severus sneered at them, wondering why Yule traditions insisted on the foul vine that lived off a host tree and was barely a decent potion ingredient. He had pointed out that the berries did brew up into a decent poison, only to be met with the mental picture of sleeping on the couch, which convinced Severus to see things his lover’s way.

hpsshpsshpss

A slightly guilty conscious, as well as the relief that the decorations had not been tampered with, had led Harry to attack the older man as they crawled into bed that evening. The oversight of relaying to his husband the amount of money he had spent in Honeydukes Sweetshop, and sent by owl to Snape Manor as a Yule gift for the children, or the clothing and toys he had found for Keven and Keenan Connor, the two boys he could not seem to get out of his mind. If they triumphed tonight… Harry pushed the thoughts aside in the predawn hours when he awoke to a persistent and already familiar fullness in his bladder. Reluctant to leave the warm cocoon of blankets and limbs, he sighed as he slid out of Severus’ arms to pad silently to the loo. 

Climbing back into bed, his feet were freezing despite the warming charm on the stone floor; Harry tried not to wake his husband.

“Is that what role I fill in your life, Potter, warming the icicles you call feet?” 

The honeyed voice was rough with sleep, and Harry had to smile at the reaction it had on his body. He tried to scoot his feet away, only to be pulled back against the warmth of Severus’ body, long legs wrapping around his. His feet were pressed against muscled calves and Harry sighed with pleasure. Toasty and secure, he slipped quickly back into sleep.

_The sky was an indigo blue, stars overshadowed by a huge, golden full moon that cast a glow on the field of sparkling snow. The Dark Lord stood over Severus, blood seeping from his body and staining the pristine white around him as Harry threw his wand to the side. The inhuman cackling could hardly have been called a laugh, as the scarlet eyes held his, and the black clad arm came up._

_‘Avada Kedavra!’_

Harry woke with a start, shooting up in bed to find himself alone and the sheets beside him cold. Fumbling for his glasses, he found a cup of sweet tea steaming on the bedside table, several ginger newt tucked on to the saucer, indicating his husband was fine. Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed the blankets off and swung his legs to the floor as he grabbed his dressing gown. He stuffed his arms in the sleeves, but did not bother to tie the belt, as he yawned and stepped out of the room.

Severus sat on the rug in front of the fireplace clad in soft blue denim jeans that caressed his arse and hugged his long legs. Leaning against his side, one long arm around looped around him, was a tearful Keven Connor who had one had fisted in the older man’s dark green jumper. Attempting to comfort the child, Severus was unaware of Harry’s presence as he rubbed a hand down the child’s back. Watching the interplay with a frown, Harry was startled when a small hand touched the curving roundness of his stomach, and he looked down into serious iris-blue eyes.

“Baba!” Keenan told him emphatically, before leaning his head against Harry’s hip, the tiny warm hand still resting on his belly. “Baba.”

Blinking, Harry tried to decipher what the toddler had said, before he disregarded the obvious, and reached down to stroke his hand through the soft baby hair. His dressing gown hung open and his sleep pants were slung low on his hips, tucked under the clearly defined baby bump. With a smile and a shake of his head, Harry looked up to see his husband raise a Snapeish eyebrow at him.

“Har’wee, up!”

Harry complied with the order, lifting the sweet smelling little boy into his arms. Keenan squeezed Harry’s cheeks enthusiastically before planting a sloppy kiss to the side of his mouth. With a grin, the teenager kissed him back, and then nuzzled the soft skin on his cheek, before blowing gently, making Keenan squeal.

“Hi, Keven,” Harry said as he carried Keenan into the sitting room, looking questioningly at Severus when he took a seat on the floor.

Shifting the boy closer to his side as Keven made to pull away, the Slytherin continued to rub small circles on his back. “I popped over to see if Molly needed anything this morning, and she let me borrow these two for awhile. Keven and I were just talking about his mum and dad, and it upset him a bit,” Severus relayed verbally, before adding through their bond, ‘ _they were savaged and slain in a Death Eater raid while Keven hid with Keenan under a bed. Keenan could not have been six months old by my calculations. It seems that Bellatrix LeStrange is determined to kill off any ‘impurities’ in her bloodline._ ’

Harry nodded, his gut tightening at the mention of his godfather’s killer. He shifted Keenan into his lap, gently tickling the soft tummy, watching as his husband continued to comfort the ten year old. 

“I had an owl this morning from Nymphadora Tonks, Harry. She has been doing some research into the boys heritage, and has found out a number of things, which is what led Keven and I to be talking about his parents,” Harry looked up to see an intense gleam in the dark eyes. “It seems that you are distantly related to the Connors on your father’s side as well, but the real surprise is how they are related to me. The boys’ father, Keife was not Muggle-born as was first thought, but the son of a magical couple who were killed in the first war, and adopted by a Muggle family who had no idea he was a wizard. His biological mother was my mother’s sister, Eleanor; Keife was my cousin.”

There was sadness in the conversational tone Severus was using, and Harry sent his love flowing through their bond, knowing what it felt like to have lost relatives he never even knew. Keenan had turned in his lap and was once more patting his belly as if fascinated. Keven had straightened and looked at Severus with wide eyes.

“May…may I call you uncle?” the boy asked, the hopeful look on his face dredging up painful memories for both the men, who recognized it in themselves.

“Yes, Keven, you may call me Uncle Severus.” 

The smile that erupted on the child’s face lit up the room, and Harry could not help but send a silent inquiry to his husband. Severus knew what was in on his mind, but refused to even discuss it.

‘ _Tomorrow, love, we will talk about our future and everything else tomorrow, when we no longer have the bastard hanging over us._ ’

hpsshpsshpss

The day had been quiet for the group of close friends who knew exactly how critical the evening would become. Ron and Hermione came down after lunch, delighted to find the two little boys with Harry and Severus. Ginny and Draco wandered in next; bring news of the remodeling project at the old Black Country home, followed by Poppy Pomfrey. Ron inadvertently let slip to Draco that Harry was pregnant as Keenan once again crawled up on the teenager’s lap to pat his belly. Ginny had shaken her head and gave him a grin, not surprised in the slightest. The Headmaster and Remus Lupin joined them for tea just before Severus flooed back to Snape Manor.

Harry showered while his husband was gone, leaving the bathroom clear for Severus when he returned, quieter than usual. They shared a long embrace before Harry moved to the bedroom to get dressed. Giving up trying to tame his hair, he walked out into the sitting room in his new dark green under tunic and dress black trousers. Restless, he did not even try to settle down, but wandered over and stared out the enchanted window as it looked across the snowy grounds towards the Whomping Willow. The moon had just begun to rise, casting a golden glow to the top of the Forbidden Forest, making Harry wonder whether Remus was still outside transforming, or already in werewolf form in the Shrieking Shack. 

The still serenity of the scene seemed to mock him, and Harry felt Rion move. Not the flutters he had been feeling, but a solid little kick that brought a grin to Harry’s face as he rested his hand on his belly. His eyes swept the outside scene again as he heard Severus moving around in the bedroom, and a flash of darkness against the snow drew him toward the window for a closer look. There, just beyond the reach of the tree limps, the dark furred mole paused, before continuing toward the trunk, followed by a rat with a paw that flashed in the moonlight, and a white-blond lemming.

Harry knew that they had been right, and the prelude to the final battle had begun.


	21. Meeting Destiny

“Severus!” 

The older man was at his side in an instant, and Harry wordlessly pointed out the animals slowly making their way under the huge tree.

“I saw that mole the day of the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff Quidditch game, but didn’t really think too much about it. I can’t believe how stupid I am!”

A hand on his arm stopped him, and he saw Severus wave. “Look! Isn’t that Lupin?”

Following the direction Severus had gestured, Harry saw a familiar reddish-brown shape hurtle out from the Forbidden Forest, pouncing on two of the animals, and ripping at the bodies. The third, the light-colored lemming, continued its plunge toward the Willow, sliding under the branches and disappearing from sight. The werewolf did not seem to notice that one of the vermin had slipped by him, and disappeared back into the Forest.

“So that was how they will access the castle,” the older man said, almost to himself, “we had wondered what the plan would be.”

Harry stepped closer, seeking the warmth his spouse could give him, but knowing that nothing could chase away the chill he felt in his soul. “So, it has begun.”

“Yes,” Severus said gravely, and wrapped himself around the teenager for a long minute, burying his face in the wild hair.

No words were necessary between the two, nor were they needed; they knew what needed to be done, and the consequences of failure. The pair added their outer robes, Severus in black trimmed with jade green and Harry in jade trimmed with black. Holding hands, they made their way up to the Great Hall. Merlin’s wand was tucked into a holster strapped to Harry’s right forearm, his phoenix feather wand in its usual pocket, and he carried Merlin’s staff. The concealment charms on the bonding rings and bracelets that both wore had been lifted and were now visible for all to see. Harry had also chosen to forego his glasses in favor of the contact lenses he had worn off and on since that summer. The cut-away styling of the dress robes did little to hide the bulge in his abdomen, but Harry would be surprised if many people noticed.

The Great Hall was sparsely but elegantly decorated in bare oak branches and holly sprigs weaved into wreaths. There were the traditional garlands of mistletoe, in keeping with the ancient Celtic beliefs that the solstice was the day that the sun returned, and that each day would stay light longer, signaling the rebirth of the land. Bright candles decorated every surface to dispel the mid-winter darkness, and cakes and fruit were piled on each table along with small gifts that signified the start of the Yule season. Ribbons were hung in the colors of each of the Houses, some decorated with full moons and others with rising suns, interspersed with the greenery. The Yule log sat in the large fireplace at the far end of the Hall ready to be lit to signify the beginning of the twelve-day celebration, a time of peace and charity. The lighting of the log would signify the start of the Ball, and a small group of musicians sat near the main doors, ready for the signal to start playing. 

Harry and Severus stepped into the room from the staff door and paused to look around. When he had researched the traditional significances of the Winter Solstice, he had been surprised to find it was also a day set aside to honor children and celebrate the fertility of the world and its people. The ancient peoples of this island and others believed the Solstice was the turning point of the year, and Harry knew that this was the turning point for the magical community; a new start in a peaceful world, he hoped. And everything would come down to the children: the DA would be fighting the Death Eaters, and their unborn child was the pivotal point in their trio, a living symbol of their deep, abiding love. 

A squad of Aurors had been detailed to Hogwarts as added protection for the students and their families, and most members of the Order of the Phoenix were already mingling with the real guests, who were making themselves comfortable at the small tables that had been set up near the fireplace. Harry scanned the room, his eyes searching through the milling crowd, noting Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt positioned near the main doors. A flash of unmistakable red hair caught his eye, and he cringed when he saw Fred and George Weasley. They were dressed in elegantly cut dress robes the color of orange marmalade.

“Bloody hell, Severus, I think they glow in the dark.”

“Well said,” answered his husband in a hushed tone of horror before shuddering and turning away.

“Good evening, Severus, Harry,” Albus Dumbledore greeted them quietly, a hand settling for a moment on the teenager’s shoulder. “I believe an Animagus has managed to breach the defenses of the castle.”

Harry exchanged a glance with his husband, before the older of the two spoke. “Yes, Albus, actually three made the attempt, but the other two were intercepted by Lupin just after he transformed.”

The Headmaster nodded as he took stood with a smile and surveyed the room, his midnight blue robes embellished with silvery moons in various stages of fullness. Practically staid for the elderly wizard, Harry thought with a small smile, and felt a surge of amusement through the bond. The covert arrival of their enemy was something they had expected, and they had worked to fortify their defenses in the event that a Death Eater was able to get into Hogwarts to tamper with the protective fields. It would have to be a magically powerful person in order to do any dismantling of the complex wards that surrounded to castle, and the Headmaster had purposely left only the ward on the main Entrance Hall unfortified. 

“Lucius Malfoy,” Harry hissed as the truth dawned on him, “he would be the only person powerful enough and trusted enough to be given the privilege.”

“Yes,” Severus agreed, his eyes scanning the room for a head of white blond hair, “which puts Draco in significant danger. His father will never forgive his defection, and will seek to kill him tonight.”

Suddenly realizing that he was being stupid, Harry stepped toward the staff doorway. 

“Dobby!” he called out softly.

The sharp ‘crack’ was barely heard in the rising noise of the new arrivals through the main door. The diminutive house-elf appeared at Harry’s side, for once dressed in a neatly pressed tea-towel adorned with the Hogwarts crest. 

“Harry Potter-Snape, sir! Dobby is very pleased…”

“Dobby!” Harry cut across his greeting with a touch of regret in his voice. “I need you to retrieve the Marauders Map from the trunk in our bedroom, please.”

With a nod and a snap of his fingers, the house-elf was gone, and Harry shared a glance with Severus while he waited for Dobby to return. It was no more than a minute before Dobby was back with the folded piece of enchanted parchment. Harry quietly thanked his small friend as he unfolded the map. Severus and the Headmaster moved to join him as he tapped his wand on the blank page.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” 

The map materialized on the surface, and three pairs of eyes scanned the hundreds of little flags that were milling around inside the castle.

“It showed me Peter Pettigrew even when he was in his rat form during my third year. I am sure it will show us Malfoy, too.”

Despite their best efforts, they could not locate the Death Eater on the map, and had to conclude that Malfoy was in one of the sub-dungeons. Looking up at Severus in frustration, Harry could see Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny approaching, and swore under his breath. The witches were both wearing gowns in different shades of blue, while the boys wore traditional dress robes in black with white under tunics. Severus stepped forward and drew Draco aside, explaining the situation, as the others sat down at the closest table. The orchestra began to play as Harry quietly relayed the latest information to his friends, the map still spread out on the table, where Albus Dumbledore continued to search it. 

The elderly wizard straightened and signaled his Potions master. “Severus, you and Harry will have to participate in this first dance with the other members of the staff, and then we will rotate through the rest, so that someone is always at the table with the map.”

Severus nodded, and turned to look at Draco one more time. The teenager was pale to the point of translucent, with a fine tremor in his hands, and Severus knew it was due to the realization that his own father hated him enough to want to kill him. Guiding him back to the table and the capable hands of his red-haired girlfriend, the Potions master moved to where his husband stood. The younger man stood Merlin’s staff next to the table, knowing no one else would be able to touch it while he was gone. 

Drawing Harry into his arms, Severus pulled him close enough that Rion was all that separated their bodies. The tempo of the first waltz was upbeat, but the older man continued to move slowly, savoring the feeling of his husband in his arms, forgetting about the public setting, and for a few minutes, the battle that loomed ahead of them. Harry looped one arm around him, and brought their other hands, clasped together, to his chest, as Severus leaned his cheek against the side of the teenager’s head. Come what may, Severus knew at this moment that his life had become something wondrous, something he could never have dreamed of being in the future for him, and he would always remember this night. He closed his eyes and relished the warmth of his spouse.

hpsshpsshpss

The group rotated through the dances for the next several hours, although Severus stayed near Albus’ side while Harry scanned the parchment map in front of him. All around them students and their dates laughed and enjoyed the Ball, while the adults and older students kept an eye on the surroundings. Hermione dragged him on the floor for a more modern waltz, and he took Ginny out for one as well. A misty, low fog had begun to form at edge of the protective barriers of the castle; a heavier bank of fog seemed to be forming around the edge of the Forbidden Forest, almost obscuring the Whomping Willow. The moon rose above them; the golden light seemed to bathe the attendees through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Draco seemed to pull himself out of the state of shock he had succumbed to, and after one last look at the map, swept Ginny out onto the dance floor.

A tingle of sensation raced across Harry’s skin, and he looked up in time to see the Headmaster stagger suddenly as he walked back from the dance floor with Minerva McGonagall. An indescribable feeling of being violated raced through Harry and the bond he shared with his husband, whose head came up from where he had leaned down to speak to Filius Flitwick, to meet Harry’s eyes. Tearing his eyes away, the teenager looked back down at the map to see the little banner marked _Lucius Malfoy_ racing past the far dungeon Potions classroom toward the main level, still apparently in his lemming form judging from the speed he traveled.

Severus was at his side, as Dumbledore laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It has begun,” he said quietly, “and more than just the ward around the entrance to the castle has fallen. Send the younger members of the DA back to their common rooms to defend them, and half of the older ones to the Astronomy Tower, as those fields have been breached as well.”

Nodding, Harry turned, surprised to find his closest friends flanking him. Quietly issuing instructions, he sent Ginny to gather those she needed to protect the Tower as Hermione took the responsibility of gathering the younger DA students. The musicians continued to play a soft, calming melody, even as their eyes followed the hurried actions of the Great Halls occupants. As the room regrouped and parted in a silent ballet of motion, Harry moved with Severus towards the Entrance Hall, hoping to intercept Lucius Malfoy before the scum could find Draco, who was leading a contingent of the DA toward the far back wall of Great Hall, where there was a side exit and a small antechamber. 

There was an explosion and Harry felt himself lifted and thrown back, his landing cushioned by Severus, as they slid across the rough stone floor. Harry was the first to scramble to his feet, and leaned down to help the older wizard to his feet.

“Get them out of the castle! Move them back!” Severus shouted as Aurors and Order members poured out of the Great Hall. 

Harry stayed close to Severus in the chaos that ensued, even as they dueled in the Entrance Hall with a flood of black-robed figures. Spell-light in various colors flashed through the dimly lit stone room and reflected up the staircases through the main portion of the castle. Bodies fell here and there, and Harry did not stop to check them as they continued to battle against the surge of black. The advance was slowly stopped and the invaders pushed back toward the giant oak doors, one of which hung precariously on its massive hinges. It was almost too easy, Harry thought as he cast a Stunning Spell at the closest white-masked figure, the wood of his holly wand growing warm with the sheer amount of magic being cast through it. Severus battled at his side, using a binding spell that would secure the prisoner until someone did the counter-spell.

The Death Eaters seemed to be yielding easily, dropping back out the doors and down into the courtyard. The Aurors at the front of the arrow were being used as a defense strategy against them. A flash of white on his right side caught his eyes, and Harry pivoted, casting a silent Stunning Spell that caught the lemming in the hindquarters and slammed it against the wall beside the door to the Great Hall. Snorting at the thought of the blond wizard blindly following a megalomaniac to his death in true lemming style, he moved closer. Another flick of his wand cast the revealing spell, and the small animal went through an amazing metamorphosis until Lucius Malfoy, disheveled and bloodied lay on the floor. A quick spell magically bound the Death Eater with thin cords and Harry levitated him into the Great Hall, where amazingly, the musicians were still quietly playing. 

Leaving the unconscious man with an older Auror he didn’t know, Harry quickly rejoined Severus at the top of the stone stairs leading out of Hogwarts.

“I do not like the ease with which we able to force their retreat,” his husband said as he hesitated at the top of the stair.

“Riddle wants us out here in the open, where he can bring in the Dementors, and whatever allies he has gathered.”

Glancing up as the golden light lit the area around them, and the moon slid out from behind the bank of fog, Severus nodded. “Yes. Stay close, please.” 

Cautiously, the pair walked down the stairs, following the sound of fighting as it moved away from the flagstone courtyard, toward the snow-covered open area beyond. Harry quickly checked on the protective shields he had cast over his abdomen, as he stayed close to Severus. A howl rented the night air, and it was quickly followed be a second and third howl, unmistakably the sound of werewolves. The noise level grew as Harry followed his husband’s example and melted into the darker shadows closest to the stone walls of the castle. When the open snowfield came into view, Harry barely managed to contain a gasp: the golden moonlight showed dozens of Death Eaters surging toward the scattered defenders, aiming at Albus Dumbledore at the front of the ranks.

A cloud obscured the moon as they moved quickly toward the two groups, and Harry felt of wave of bone-chilling coldness sweep through him. The Dementors had arrived, he thought with a shudder, hoping that the potion Severus had invented would help everyone with the fear and despair as the chill increased. Harry gripped the back of his husband’s robes as the surrounding area became black. The sounds of dueling had escalated to what sounded like a fully engaged battle, and as they came around the corner of a rampart, the spell-light from many wands could be seen, casting an eerie pattern of light under a black, writhing sky. 

Lifting the staff of Merlin for the first time, Harry whispered a spell, “ _Relucesco Solis_ ”, and a flare exploded, illuminating the area with light as bright as the sun. Screams rent the air, and Harry blinked the dancing spots from his eyes to see a group of tall, pale figures begin to writhe in the light, the victims in their arms sliding to the ground.

“Vampires!” Severus hissed as an arm went out to push Harry instinctively behind him in a protective gesture. “Merlin, Harry, you have conjured a miniature sun!”

Looking up in amazement, , a sight met Harry’s eyes that threw him back to the night he’d first met his godfather, when he’d almost lost him at the edge of the lake. A shiver of fear raced down his spine. Light bounced off what seemed to the teenager to be hundreds of Dementors. They swirled high above the battle, as if waiting for a signal from someone to swoop in. The ground began to tremble, and Harry looked toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where the light had illuminated the edge of the tree line closest to the castle, to see the tops of the tallest trees swaying and bending. Frowning, he drew forward a memory of having witnessed a similar scene, realizing immediately that it had been during his fifth year when Hagrid’s little brother, Grawp, had lived in the forest.

‘ _Sev_ ,’ he pushed through the bond as the noise level rose around them during their continued advance toward the main area of the battle, _‘I think there are giants in the Forest!_ ’ 

Before the Potions master could formulate a reply, the light was abruptly extinguished and a jet of red spell-light sliced through the inky blackness around them. Standing back to back, the two men began dueling with unseen opponents. A frisson of awareness ran through the battlefield, and Harry knew that Voldemort had arrived. Awareness flowed between them, as Harry’s magic seemed to be able to track the pocket of pure evil, now without the searing pain that he had come to associate with the Dark wizard.

A flare of silver lit up the sky and signaled the first Patronus being cast from the Observation Tower. Catching a glimpse of the form of a prowling tiger, Harry knew it must have been Ginny who had cast it. The night became even darker and infinitely colder as he felt something brush the top of his hair. A putrid smell alerted him to just how close a Dementor was, and the image of a broken and bloodied Severus formed in his mind. Grasping for an image filled with happiness, Harry envisioned his son in his arms.

” _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ ” 

An enormous silver Stag erupted, not from his wand, but from the wooden staff held in a death grip in his left hand. Shooting straight upwards, three times its normal size, the shimmering Patronus chased a cloud of vile creatures away as other silver shapes joined it to canter across the sky. The shaking of the earth under their feet became worse, multicolored spell-light was flying all around, and the cries of the injured mingled with the howls of several rampaging werewolves, building the noise to thunderous levels.

Still pressed against Severus’ back, Harry almost fell over the prone figure of a Ravenclaw seventh year, his face white and streaked with blood, his eyes open and unseeing as he lay dead in the snow. The curses and hexes continued to fly around and at the two as both men conjured protective shields around them, pushing the Death Eaters back away from Hogwarts. At the edge of his awareness, Harry could feel Voldemort moving ever closer, seeking him out. The noise level was almost unbearable, the smell of blood and death thick in the air, and the fighting continued to ebb and flow around them. Caught up in a riptide of movement, the pair continued to move to intercept their destiny.

A burst of golden light gently lit the area, and Harry dared a glance toward the Forbidden Forest. Along the edge stood three groups of unicorns, their coats gleaming white, and the light was pouring from their golden horns. They bracketed a line of Centaurs, who held their bows and arrows trained on the werewolves as they ripped into several students, leaving a trail of bloodied bodies behind them. The arrows soared; the tips flashed silver in the air as they found their targets. The screams of the dying werewolves added to the deafening ruckus. The earth had stopped shaking, almost as if the giants were afraid to cross the line of pureness that the unicorns represented.

Dodging a Bone Breaking Hex, Severus whipped to his left as he felt Harry take a glancing blow from a cutting hex. The light provided by the unicorns was a welcome relief from the all-encompassing darkness, and he could see the silver shapes moving within the swirl of Dementors, keeping them at bay. Casting a strong Stunning Spell at the masked Death Eaters surrounding them, Severus continued his search for the Headmaster. He could make out the silver beard and dark blue robes of Albus Dumbledore ten meters away, standing over several fallen students, as he battled his own ring of attackers. The Potions master continued to push in that direction, clamping down on the fear that ran through him as Harry felt the Dark Lord draw ever nearer.

An insane cackle from the slight black-robed figure now in front of him told Severus that they were battling members of Voldemort’s inner circle, even before Bellatrix Lestrange began to taunt Harry in a high baby voice.

“Little baby Potter thinks he can best the greatest wizard who ever lived! He and his traitor lover will find that this night brings only immense pain and death to you both. Little Harry!”

The two hulking figures standing on either side of the witch could only be the Lestrange brothers, who laughed as Bellatrix screamed. Reaching out to bring their three wand tips together, they trained them on Harry.

“ _Crucio!_ ” They cried in unison.

Pushing the pregnant teen to the side without conscious thought, Severus stepped into the path of the conjoined spell-light. The force of the triply-cast Unforgivable Curse shredded the shields around him, and Severus felt the pain explode inside him as the curse ripped through his nervous system. The pain was excruciating, and he tried to close the bond to protect his soul mate and child. An idle thought drifted up from the bottom of his mind: _none of the prophecies ever mentioned whether either of you would survive defeating this bastard._

hpsshpsshpss

The searing pain Harry felt caused his knees to buckle, and he staggered sideways a half step before he could catch himself. Turning back, he gasped as the Dementor-induced nightmare greeted him: Severus lay on the snow-covered ground, his mouth open in a silent scream as his back arched against the fire ripping through his veins. For a heartbeat, Harry felt paralyzed with fear, until he realized that Severus was attempting to close the bond. Steeling himself, Harry forced a portion of his magic through the link they shared to bolster his husband’s endurance and to try to reinforce their shielding.

“We meet once more, Harry Potter, and for the last time. This eternal battle ends tonight,” said the high, cold voice he had been expecting.

Tall, thin, and black-hooded, the terrible snakelike face glowing eerily in the golden light that backlit the scene, the inhuman scarlet eyes fixed on Harry, Lord Voldemort stood to one side of the trio of Death Eaters torturing their former comrade. Harry felt his lip curl in a sneer reminiscent of the Potions master as he turned to fully face the evil wizard. 

“You finally decided to show up, Tom. Lounging while your brainless minions did your dirty work for you?”

“You will pay for your impertinence, Potter,” Voldemort said dangerously. Hissing her satisfaction, Nagini twined around his ankles. “You have learned much since we last met, but not enough to defeat me. You have never possessed the strength or the intelligence to take on the greatest wizard of all time. I will take great pleasure in watching you die slowly, after you are forced to watch your bond-mate tortured into insanity.”

“Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of the last millennium, Tom, and I will be for the coming millennium,” he said without inflection, mentally fortifying his barriers and those he had extended to try and protect Severus, still writhing on the now slushy snow.

“You pathetic son of a Mudblood! You will never have the power I command!” The Dark Lord raged at his words, the scarlet eyes flaring.

Tired of the banter, Harry flicked his wand almost lazily in Voldemort’s direction.

“ _Incendio!_ ”

The great snake burst into flame, an inhuman scream rending the night air as all eyes watched Voldemort’s familiar vanish in a haze of green flames. Holding his wand loosely in his hand and pivoting as he watched Voldemort jerk his eyes back toward him, Harry was not surprised when he was hit by a nonverbal _Expelliarmus_. His wand flew into the snow beyond his reach. He had known that Riddle would not let their wands duel again, and shifted the staff into his right hand, swinging it in an arc toward the Lestranges, sending them staggering back with a silent stunner. Severus collapsed onto the ground, laying deathly still. 

With a roar of fury, Voldemort advanced on him, and Harry knew that the time had come. Bellatrix had recovered immediately from the hex, and rushed back alone to re-cast the Cruciatus Curse, her husband and his brother slower to recover. Dropping to his knees beside his husband, Harry assumed a position that could be mistaken as submission, his left hand reaching out toward Severus. His head was held high, watching as Voldemort came closer. Rage was evident in the jerky motions of his hands as he brought his long, dark wand up to point at the kneeling teenager.

“How fitting, Harry Potter, to lose your life kneeling in the mud at my feet! It ends now, as it should have that night sixteen years ago! AVADA KEDAVRA!” 

Harry could feel the magical energy flowing through him like a surging tide as he gathered it from Severus and Rion. He was aware of everything around him, could see in stark detail the jet of green spell-light as it flew in slow-motion towards him, smell the scent of blood in the air, feel the crispness of the air and the cold slush seeping into the knees of his trousers. Rion seemed to be twitching, mirroring the movements Severus made as he convulsed in the sloppy mess of snow and mud, the gut-wrenching pain and nerve-spasming effects of the Cruciatus Curse filtering through the bond. Savagely clamping down on the pain and concentrating on the deep well of love inside him, Harry pushed their combined magic out Merlin’s staff as he held it in his right hand. The dark hair of Bellatrix Lestrange was a sharp contrast to the white mask that sat askew on her face, as her inhuman laughter raised the hair on the back of his neck. 

Blocking out everything, he concentrated on pushing the woven strand of magic out of the staff. A golden glow enveloped Severus first, and then himself, flashes of silver and emerald played around the edges of the aura. The Killing Curse, filled with all the hate that Tom Riddle could possibly pour into it, pulsated as it drew closer, the embodiment of the abhorrence the evil wizard felt toward Harry and the world he loved. Writhing like the vile reptile that lay dead at Voldemort’s feet, the green light slammed into the teenager’s abdomen.

Feeling the instantaneous drain on his magic, Harry gathered as much as strength as he could and held on. 

_‘I love you, Severus, and we will both always be with you!_ ’

The gold aura flared, outlined in blinding white light as the Killing Curse surged as if gaining power from the outpouring of magic from Merlin’s staff. The curse rebounded sharply as the dark wizard who fancied himself a lord stood in enraged impotence. He screamed as the spell-light struck him in the chest, a spider’s web of green and gold enveloping him. His chest, where his heart was supposed to be, began to glow before it imploded and burst into flames. Mouth open in a now silent scream, Voldemort burned from the inside out, slowly. As he burned, the Dark Mark burst into flames, and every person on the battlefield who bore the skull and snake brand on their arm began to burn as well. 

Around him, the screams of the dying and injured seemed to be muted as the burst of energy subsided. Had he not already been on his knees, Harry knew his legs would have collapsed. Reaching out a shaking hand, he touched the battered and bloodied face in front of him gently before summoning both of their wands. Laying them on Severus’ chest, he held the staff tightly in his right hand as he leaned down and awkwardly embraced his husband. Drawing on the last of his reserves, Harry Apparated them to the hospital wing, remaining conscious long enough to see Poppy scream and drop a tray she was holding to run toward him. A soft blackness gently swallowed him.


	22. Epilogue: Life Goes On

Potions master Severus Snape sat in his chair at the right hand of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, watching this year’s group of first years walk nervously into the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His son, Orion Severus Potter-Snape, clad in miniature green robes that matched the eyes he had inherited from his dad, sat on his lap and chewed contently on a hard biscuit held firmly in his father’s hand. With what Severus thought was a touch of malice glinting in those huge green eyes, Rion wrapped his tiny hands around his father’s fingers, content to let him hold the soggy biscuit. A wave of amusement filtered through the bond he shared with his husband, but a sideways glance showed Harry’s eyes riveted to the approaching line of youngsters.

Their oldest son, Keven Connor Potter-Snape, led the others confidently down the center aisle behind Minerva McGonagall, the older witch still leaning a bit on her cane as she limped. He had been adopted on Christmas Eve, just days after the climactic battle; the proceedings had had to be officiated in their bedroom as both he and Harry had still been confined to bed. Keven had been somber, because he understood what was happening, but Keenan had promptly climbed up and settled himself between his two fathers, proclaiming Harry ‘Da’ and Severus ‘Papa’. Keven had blossomed under the unequivocal love both men had given him, even attempting to test their boundaries before settling down to Harry’s generous and hands-on love and Severus’ quiet, stable persistence.

Keenan grew steadily, enslaving most of the castle’s occupants with his quick smile and spitfire personality; he was part seer, part old soul, and all Slytherin, as Harry often muttered under his breath. No one could observe them together and doubt that the adults were loved in return, and the instant family had bonded together with relatively little strife. Settling into a system of parental trial and error, they had managed to come up with firm but gentle discipline, balanced with on-going reassurance and love, and were working to countermand the boys’ deep-seated fear of once again being abandoned.

When Rion had been born on the evening of the Spring Equinox, both Keven and Keenan welcomed their baby brother without fear that their fathers would not love them anymore. Keven stood proudly as secondary godfather, with Ron and Hermione accepting the primary responsibility for his new sibling. Tonks had been appointed as godmother to both the older boys at the same time, as no one seemed to be able to find out who the Connors had chosen originally, especially with so many Black family relatives dead following the first war, and more after the second.

In the aftermath of the battle, Hogwarts and the wizarding community as a whole had to regroup and recover, learning again to live in a world at peace with itself and the Muggle world around them. The world slowly came to life after two and a half years of overt terror. Mister Ollivander reopened his wand emporium in Diagon Alley, and his brother and nephew reopened Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor with the original name. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes expanded into Hogsmeade, where Lee Jordan managed the premises, while Fred and George Weasley continued to expand both their inventory and their main shop in Diagon Alley.

The reality of the deaths and the injuries sustained in the clash had continued to weigh heavily on his husband’s mind for long after the battle ceased, Severus mused as he cast another cleaning charm on his hand. None of the students attacked by the group of vampires that night were turned, thankfully, but the werewolves had been particularly brutal. Led by the rabid Fenrir Greyback, the faction had killed five students and infected three others, in addition to making an abortive attack on Bill Weasley. Remus Lupin had immediately stepped forward, his own brush with silver poisoning mitigated when he regurgitated the remains of Peter Pettigrew and his silver paw, clearing Sirius Black’s name in the process.

Taking the three sixth year boys under his tutelage, Remus had directed the cleaning and repair of the Shrieking Shack to give them all a place to transform each month away from prying eyes. Bill was hired to teach a new Wizarding Culture course to Muggle raised students, and helped the older man give them hope of living a relatively normal life. Severus had increased the quantity of the Wolfsbane he diligently brewed each month, ensuring that all five were supplied with the best potion to ease the transformation each month. In one of the biggest ironies of the chaos during the battle, the three students who died at the hands of the werewolves had been a small contingent of would-be Death Eaters, there to prove their worthiness to Voldemort: Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Andrew Kirke, a Gryffindor sixth year.

While there were numerous injuries among the students fighting, they had only lost three members of the DA, Parvati Patil, Hannah Abbott, and Michael Corner. Professor Sinistra was killed, as were two of the Aurors at the front of the charge, and Alastor Moody, who had been on duty at the gates of Hogwarts, had defended them to the death. Neville Longbottom’s grandmother had been found dead in the Great Hall when the battle was over, but no one was sure quite what had happened. 

The Dark forces had been decimated. Every witch or wizard who bore the Dark Mark had died when Voldemort fell. Their magic had tied them to the evil wizard through the brand, and as he died, Voldemort had pulled in as much power as he could, effectively sucking each Death Eater dry, the Mark bursting into flame on each. Their magic gone in an instant, their bodies were unable to withstand the shock, and their hearts shut down. The silver arrowheads fired by the Centaurs had killed the werewolves, who had been ripping through students. The vampires had been incapacitated by the artificial sunlight cast that night, but they had all disappeared before anyone could check their status. The giants never did materialize out of the Forest, although Grawp had seemed very pleased with himself afterwards, and had become a great favorite of the unicorns.

A sharp nip on the tip of his index finger brought Severus out of his thoughts, and he gently extracted his now throbbing forefinger from between the only two teeth that inhabited the baby’s mouth.

“Papa is not part of your snack, Rion; please kindly concentrate on merely smearing your biscuit on your bib.”

Severus pressed a kiss in the silky curls on the top of his son’s head, a perfect combination of his own straight locks and Harry’s impossible hair. He glanced over at the younger man just as the luminous green eyes sought his out, and the most powerful wizard since Merlin smiled back at him, love softening the eyes he had come to love so deeply. Warm fingers brushed past his cheek as Harry reached over to cup the top of the infant’s head and stroke it gently. Keenan, who was perched on his daddy’s lap, babbled on as they watched the Sorting. 

The losses for the Light forces had hit Harry, who carried the unrealistic belief that he might have somehow prevented them, quite hard, causing him to slip into depression just after Rion’s birth. It had taken a tearful plea from Keenan for his daddy to finally come to terms with what had happened to him in his life, and seek out a counselor at St Mungo’s. Severus had even availed himself of the services on several occasions, and had recommended the service become a fixture in the hospital wing, as a number of students had endured loss and devastation during the war.

Many of Harry’s year-mates had gone on after graduation to occupations that would give back to the magical community as a whole, with several of them going into the service of the newly revamped Ministry of Magic. A number of others decided to go into advanced studies in healing arts, and entered mediwizarding programs at St Mungo’s. Three students, the most in almost twenty years, had been accepted into the Auror training program: Draco Malfoy, Padma Patil, and Ron Weasley. Hermione Granger, who Severus had no doubt would someday be the youngest Minister of Magic, was majoring in government management courses in both the wizarding and Muggle sides of Oxford University. Neville Longbottom had matured greatly after the loss of his grandmother, and was studying in a Muggle agricultural school with the offer of an apprentice position to Professor Sprout when he graduated. 

Keven’s name was called just as Rion decided he wanted one of the golden goblets on the table in front of them, and Keenan squealed as he pushed off Harry’s lap and dived under the Head Table. Heading toward the stool where his brother gingerly sat, the ancient Sorting Hat on his head, Keenan laughed with delight as the hat made its pronouncement.

“SLYTHERIN!”

The Head of Slytherin House smiled as his eldest sent him a happy grin before scooting off the stood, setting the hat down, and scooping up his little brother as he danced by. Wagering that all of his sons would eventually be sorted into his House, Severus smiled as he remembered Keenan’s visit to the Headmaster’s office with him one afternoon; he had managed to get the Hat from the shelf and convinced it to sort him into Slytherin at three, much to Albus’ amusement. A born Slytherin himself, Rion squirmed as his daddy moved to retrieve Keenan, trying to get to the gleaming goblet that had caught his eye. Severus splayed his large hand across the infant’s chest and held him firmly, sighing as he saw the determined glint coming back into those eyes. 

Every goblet on the table suddenly levitated several centimeters above the tablecloth and started to vibrate. Rion had already shown signs of magical power to rival his fathers’, and they had to gently but firmly discourage these bursts of accidental magic. Severus had to admit to himself that the amount of intelligence present in his son’s eyes made the term ‘accidental’ laughable. Settling Keenan back in his seat with a firm word, Harry waved a hand over the table and settled everything back in place.

A warm hand settled on his shoulder briefly, and Severus was favored with the smile that lit the room with warmth. Harry leaned over him, gently wiping Rion’s face and hands clean with a warm cloth, despite the baby’s displeasure at the activity. The younger man filled his days with taking care of the babies, which he seemed to thoroughly enjoy, and making wherever they happened to be staying their home. Taking both Keenan and Rion, Harry spent three days a week helping out in the school they had set up for the younger children at Snape Manor, and had been asked to set aside two evenings a week to tutor sixth and seventh years in Advanced DADA. He made sure that Severus had an opportunity to spend his share of time with their sons, and the Potions master prided himself on his nappy-changing skills.

After the chaotic first weeks of being parents and trying to cope with the aftermath of the final battle, Severus had demanded they make time for themselves. Consequently, each week they had Friday nights reserved for themselves, or what Keenan had dubbed ‘Daddy Dates’. There were no shortages of volunteers to baby-sit; Ginny and Luna loved to watch the boys, and ‘Grandma’ Molly was always available for an overnight stay at the children’s home when they needed a night away. Generally their private times involved no more than Flooing to Prince House for a quiet dinner and an evening of lovemaking. Both men shunned publicity, and Harry was almost rabidly opposed to accepting any awards or accolades. He had given in only to accept the Order of Merlin, first class, that he knew Severus had long coveted. 

The warm hands slid down to stroke the long, slender fingers as he cleaned soggy biscuit from them, and his husband leaned closer.

“I take it you are pleased with Keven’s placement in Slytherin, oh husband mine.” Warm breath blew gently into his ear, sending a shiver of arousal through him.

“Indeed, brat, he will be close in the event you feel the need to mother him,” Severus said haughtily, raising a hand to stroke his lover’s cheek. “My poor little Gryffindor, all alone in a house of snakes.”

“You keep thinking that, Sev, but I warn you now, your daughter will be a Gryffindor through and through,” Harry told him with a smirk, laughing as he watched Severus’ jaw drop.

“Daughter?” Severus demanded, in the stillness of the Headmaster standing for his remarks.

“Iris baby,” Keenan told him in a conspiratory whisper as he leaned toward his father, and Harry blushed as he realized every eye in the Hall was on them.

“Keenan told me when you left to take Keven to the boats,” Harry tried to explain in an undertone, “I meditated and found that he was right, so I am assuming it is a little girl named Iris.”

The worried look on Harry’s face, combined with the bizarre notion that their three-year-old had announced this out of the blue, made the normally stoic man’s lips twitch, and then he laughed. A warm laugh, rich and velvety, burst forth that had Rion twisting in his lap, giggling, and Keenan squealing in delight, and sent half the students in the school into a state of shock. A relieved smile grew into one of delight, as Harry sat down beside him, and Albus Dumbledore cleared his voice to try regaining control.

Harry Potter-Snape sighed, knowing that despite trials he had endured, the devastating losses and twists that fate had thrown at him, he had finally come home to a place where he would be forever loved and happy.


End file.
